


King Me

by Okoru



Series: Satan's incredibly daring and foolish plan [2]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: (slaps fic) this bad boy can fit so much yearning in it, AU where MC doesn't exist and instead it's just Solomon, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining, No beta we die like lilith, Pining, depictions of violence (and mentions of blood) in chapter 3, idiots to lovers, mentions of the celestial war, the crock pot is still on and the slow burn continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 57,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okoru/pseuds/Okoru
Summary: Satan is back in his own body, so why does it feel like nothing has changed? Why does Diavolo still make his heart race? Despite weeks upon weeks of research, Satan still can’t come up with an answer, and those feelings refuse to fade away. It’s… confusing. How can he accept having a crush when he can barely accept himself?
Relationships: Diavolo/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: Satan's incredibly daring and foolish plan [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967353
Comments: 64
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a continuation of Checkmate (Part 1). I highly recommend reading Part 1 first if you haven’t already, although that’s not a requirement. With that being said, enjoy!

Satan eyes the tome in his hand. It’s an incredibly familiar book, one that managed to entirely turn his life upside down.  
_The Forbidden Tome of Dum As Airy._  
He doesn’t even remember how he acquired it, but it somehow ended up on being the most dangerous thing in his collection.  
It caused him to switch bodies with Lucifer after all.

Satan frowns as he thinks back on it, and as his heart begins to flutter once a certain prince enters his mind.  
Yes, this tome is a hazard to society. It makes him feel… things.  
Lucifer’s crush on Diavolo is stupid, even more so now that it’s affecting him. How was Lucifer able to live with it? Satan has absolutely no idea. As soon as he sees the prince his mind turns to mush, and his heart beats so loud that he can hardly think.  
But the solution for it is easy at least.

Just ignore him.  
Don’t respond to his texts.  
Don’t wave hello back.  
Don’t stare into his eyes.  
And most importantly, don’t let yourself feel anything towards him.

Satan adheres to these rules, the ones that he has made for himself. It’s effortless, doing nothing, feeling nothing. He’s done it for a majority of his life.  
All he needs in order to be happy is a good book, or a cat. Not a person. Not a demon.  
Especially not a prince, even if he did have several qualities that Satan admired.  
Even if Satan’s life feels incredibly dull without their playful banter.

Yet despite that, Satan presses on.  
Diavolo’s absence in his life is new, and takes some adjustment. Although they had known each other for a long time before all of this, something about that entire incident caused their dynamic to warp. And Satan can’t help but feel like he’s changed along with it. He is fine with being alone, but now there is a part of him that no longer wants to be. That hungers for the companionship that he had before.  
Satan ignores it.

But other than that the past couple of weeks have run rather smoothly. His life plays out the same. He reads a book, saves all of the cat memes that the prince texts him, studies, blushes when Diavolo sends him yet another coy grin when no one is looking…  
Okay, so maybe things are a bit different. But that’s fine. His schedule is the same as it always was, and he still hasn’t said a word to Diavolo since the incident. So it’s all good. Perfect even. Because as long as he has this pattern, as long as he follows those guidelines, then he can pretend that nothing happened.  
He can continue to exist as he always has, where everything about his life is simple and boring.  
Well, except for the emotion that’s swirling around in his chest. That crush.  
But that doesnt matter. It’s not a feeling that belongs to him; any day now it’s going to vanish.  
So there’s no reason to panic.  
After all, everything is finally back to normal.

~+~+

Satan arrives at the student council meeting on time, as always. Diavolo is already there, but that’s also par for the course.  
He takes a deep breath, and prepares himself for the wink that Diavolo is definitely going to give him once he sits down. But nothing happens.  
Perhaps it’s a fluke. Maybe Diavolo doesn’t know that he’s arrived yet. So Satan fakes a cough or two for good measure, and even follows through with the appropriate “excuse me.”  
But Diavolo still doesn’t acknowledge his presence. He doesn’t even spare him a glance. Satan hates the amount of sheer disappointment that runs through him, and the irritation that simmers in the back of his mind.  
Diavolo isn’t supposed to ignore him in return.

The meeting begins, but Satan’s eyes haven’t left Diavolo’s frame.  
_Look at me!_  
Diavolo, of course, doesn’t listen to his request. He’s acting as he did before, as he has for over a millennia.  
As if Satan means nothing to him.  
He should be used to being brushed aside, they’ve never been friends after all. But that was before they swapped bodies.  
That was before Diavolo had decided to flirt with him for several months straight.

And even after he was back in his own body, the prince had never stopped, not truly. He had toned it down, and was far more subtle with his affections, but the affection was still there.  
It made his heart run rampant.  
So Satan ignored him. He created a set of rules, and followed them to a tee.  
Diavolo was never supposed to take it to heart.  
He was never supposed to give up.

But if that’s the case, then things can truly go back to normal. Diavolo will leave him alone, and he won’t have to deal with him anymore. This should be what he wants. But the prince’s gaze has always made him feel soft and warm. He’s been so used to having it trained on him, to feeling the phantom caress across his body. It made ignoring that fluttery feeling easier, because the prince’s attention was always there to fuel it.

Now there is nothing, and Satan can feel his irritation grow. It doesn't matter that Lucifer’s the one who’s presenting right now. Diavolo should be looking at him instead.  
_Pay attention to me!_  
He practically screams it within his mind.  
_Look at me! Focus on me!_  
But Diavolo’s gaze doesn't falter. He continues to politely listen to Lucifer’s speech.  
Satan should be doing the same, but he feels too annoyed to even attempt it. 

Satan frowns, and once he notices the blank notebook in front of him, an idea enters his head. It’s incredibly childish, but Diavolo ignoring him is even more so.  
So Satan quietly tears off a strip of paper and rolls it into a ball. When no one is looking, he chucks it at Diavolo’s head.  
It’s a perfect hit, but Diavolo doesn’t even flinch.  
...That’s fine. Satan has a whole ream of paper after all, and it looks like Lucifer’s speech is going to be a long one.

He throws multiple scraps of paper at Diavolo, some with very angry messages scribbled on them. But the prince isn’t phased, no matter where they land.  
It’s annoying, especially since he’s starting to run out of ammunition.  
Satan frowns as he rolls up another piece. For some reason, nothing he does seems to stick.  
_...That’s it._

He doesn’t even bother to hide his smirk as he places the paper ball in his mouth. He chews on it as if it were a piece of gum, and after a minute or two, it’s ready.  
He spits it out, and it smacks right into Diavolo’s neck.

The prince’s expression finally seems to shift. For a split second, Satan thinks that he’s won. That Diavolo is finally going to look at him. But instead he asks Lucifer a question, his gaze as firm as ever. 

Satan’s had enough.  
He pulls up his contacts and sends Diavolo a message, the first one that’s directly from his phone.  
Their first true interaction outside of that incident.

> Satan: Stop ignoring me.
> 
> Diavolo: Oh, are you talking to me now?
> 
> Satan: There’s nothing to talk about.  
>  Just stop acting as if I’m not here. It’s weird.
> 
> Diavolo: So you enjoy it when I look at you?
> 
> Satan: Wait. No.
> 
> Diavolo: Too late! No takesy backsies!
> 
> Satan: Really? Takesy backsies?  
>  What are you, 2?
> 
> Diavolo: I’m 2 into you ❤️

But before he can respond, Lucifer’s voice rings out.  
“ **Satan, pay attention.** ”

And this time, he can see the amusement in Diavolo’s eyes when Lucifer reprimands him. He can feel the prince's gaze sweep over him.  
It makes him want to purr.  
Now that that’s handled with, he can at least pretend to listen to what Lucifer has to say.

That idea lasts for two while minutes, before he feels his phone vibrate. It’s from Diavolo.  
Satan opens up the message, and is greeted with a cat meme. This one is of a grey cat with the words _‘I can haz cheezburger?’_ written at the top.  
It’s hilarious. Satan has to smother his giggles.

“Oh, do you mind telling us what’s so funny, Satan?”

Apparently he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. Not if Lucifer’s calling him out on it. It’s embarrassing. He’s usually a lot more covert.  
“I do mind, actually.”

“ **Then be quiet.** Now I have to start all over.”

Various groans are heard throughout the room.  
...It looks like they’re going to be here for awhile.  
The price looks as nonchalant as ever, his gaze politely fixed on Lucifer as the demon continues his presentation. But Satan knows exactly what his hand is doing underneath the table.  
His phone gets another notification. Another cat meme

> Satan: Are you trying to get us in trouble?
> 
> Diavolo: Did you think that I wouldn’t get back at you for all of those paper balls you threw at me earlier?
> 
> Satan: That was different. Lucifer’s going to kill me if we get caught.
> 
> Diavolo: You wanted my attention, didn’t you?  
>  Well now you have it. One meme for every single bit of paper that hit me. That is your punishment.
> 
> Satan: I’m not going down without a fight.
> 
> Diavolo: Then what are you waiting for? Come at me.

_Fine._  
Satan discreetly pulls up the strongest weapon in his phone's arsenal, a photo album full of cute cat pictures.  
_Let’s see him try to keep his poker face after this._  
Satan sends the first one, and hides his grin beneath his hand.

He has texted Diavolo plenty of times before, but it’s the first time that he’s actually gotten to see his reaction. The prince's eyes widen, and an amused expression briefly appears on his face. It quickly morphs into something more neutral, something more appropriate for a student council meeting.  
About a minute later, Satan receives another cat meme.

This is probably the best punishment that he’s ever been given. But Diavolo is a fool if he thinks that he’s going to win. Satan has over a terabyte of cat pics saved on his phone after all.  
One of them is going to make Diavolo smile.

And that is what they do for the next half an hour. When Lucifer and the others aren’t looking, they subtly text each other cute pictures of kittens and terrible cat jokes. All in order to make the other one crack, to get them in trouble.  
It’s incredibly fun, and definitely more entertaining than whatever it is Lucifer is talking about.

...It’s the first time that he’s blatantly never paid attention to the meeting. Normally he’s a lot more well behaved, especially when information is concerned.  
So what is he doing?  
There’s no reason for this, it should have ended the moment Diavolo texted him back. And yet once again he found himself dragged along on another one of Diavolo’s schemes.

The prince glances down at his phone, at the last cat picture that Satan had sent him, and that blank expression finally cracks. For a brief moment there is a look of pure and utter joy on his face.  
_Oh._

All of the other smiles that Diavolo’s given him for the past several weeks have been forced, but this one is genuine. And for some reason, it almost looks prettier when he’s seeing it through his own eyes.  
Maybe it’s because Lucifer’s existence no longer haunts him. Everything feels lighter now, more real. Not that it didn’t feel real before, but there was always an element of… fakeness to it. Perhaps that’s why Satan became so easily lost, and forgot to actually gather anything that could be used as blackmail.

In the end, he has nothing to show for it. Only a few embarrassing photos of Lucifer that he refuses to make public, and a crush that isn’t his.  
Amongst all of the plans that he’s made to get back at Lucifer, that one is definitely his greatest failure. Yet he can’t bring himself to regret it. And although he can’t fathom why, there’s a part of him that knows that Diavolo is to blame.  
Hanging out with the prince was the best part of it after all. It’s just a shame that Lucifer’s stupid crush is getting in the way. They could have been friends otherwise.  
But maybe, once that feeling finally goes away, he’ll feel less awkward. And they’ll be able to talk like they did before. There’s a part of him that longs for it, especially now that he’s gotten a taste.

“ **Satan** , did you even listen to a **word** that I said?”

It’s Lucifer, of course it is, and Satan feels more irritated with him then usual.  
_It’s all his fault._  
So why does he have the audacity to look so unaffected? Why is Satan’s life the only one that’s in shambles?  
He’s been struggling to keep everything relatively normal, and yet Lucifer acts as if nothing has changed. As if his eyes don’t linger on Solomon’s frame anytime the sorcerer enters the room.  
Yes, there is something going on in between them, and Satan still doesn’t know exactly what it is. But the idea of it infuriates him.  
Why would Lucifer cheat on Diavolo, especially with Solomon of all people?  
And how could he, when his feelings for the prince are this strong?

...Lucifer doesn’t deserve him. Diavolo could do better.

“Oh, were you talking? I’m sorry, I thought I was hearing an ass, I had no idea it was you.”

Lucifer frowns.  
“Stop being a smart aleck. This is important.”

Satan rolls his eyes.  
“No, I’m _sure_ it is. I just didn’t know donkeys could thrive in the Devildom. You learn something new everyday.”

“...You’re behaving like a child. As a member of the student council, I expect you to—“

But his impending lecture is interrupted by Diavolo  
“Ah Lucifer, do you know what that look reminds me of?”

Lucifer lets out an embarrassed cough.  
“Lord Diavolo, please, I am trying to—“

“The day we first met. I remember it as if it were yesterday.”

And the look that Diavolo gives Lucifer is incredibly soft and familiar. It's the same one that the prince had shown him time and time again. After every compliment, every caress, he would look at Satan as if he was something important, as if he was something worth treasuring.  
But Satan was in Lucifer’s body then, and Lucifer is the one who has always owned Diavolo’s heart.  
...It’s probably for the best.  
What would the Avatar of Wrath even do with his heart, other than eat it?

Lucifer doesn't even look upset. He appears to be mildly annoyed, if anything, but there’s an unmistakable blush on his cheeks. He sends Diavolo a very half-hearted glare, but the prince just chuckles. And for some reason that entire exchange makes Satan feel sick.  
His gaze wanders elsewhere, looking at the ceiling, the drapes, anything but the two love birds in front of him.

Diavolo continues his story, not even bothering to hide who he’s gushing over.  
“Lucifer, when I first saw you, I wasn’t even paying attention to what you said. I was too captivated by that glare, one that shook me to my very core. Dozens and dozens of complaints left your lips, but it didn’t bother me in the slightest. For you see, every ounce of disdain that passed through those very lips only made me become more and more besotted—”

And, like always, Lucifer stops him.  
“This meeting is adjourned.”

Yes, nothing has changed. Diavolo is head over heels for Lucifer, and Satan is left alone.  
...So why was the prince texting him?  
Why did he spend the past several weeks practically begging for his attention?

He spares a quick glance at Diavolo, and as it turns out the prince had a similar idea. Their eyes meet, and he throws Satan a wink. As if nothing had happened.  
Was that on purpose then?  
Was it all just a ruse in order to divert Lucifer’s attention?  
Or did it mean something else?  
It’s hard to say.  
Diavolo is like a puzzle, one that Satan still hasn’t quite put together yet. And from the bits and pieces that he’s collected, he knows one thing to be true.  
Diavolo is an incredibly kind demon, but he can also be a little shit at times.  
The main question is, which one is he being right now?

Not that it matters. The meeting is over, and Satan can finally leave. His heart is still acting strange, and his mind isn’t faring any better. A curse shouldn’t have affected him this badly… and yet here he is.  
He needs to burn that tome as soon as he can. Even though that won’t solve anything, it’ll at least be satisfying. He’s never wanted to destroy a book, to watch its pages crumble and burn, but for this tome he can make an exception. Maybe he can murder whoever he got it from too.  
He’s starting to feel desperate, pulling at each and every straw that he can grasp. Interacting with Diavolo was a mistake, he should have just continued to ignore him like before.

Even those texts made his stomach feel all fluttery and weird. It makes him want to do even more dumb things; like hold his hand, or lie down on his lap and read a book. Or… both. Could he even do both?  
It would be difficult, obviously. He would need both hands in order to hold the book properly… but Diavolo’s hands would be free, and they could be placed right on top of his.  
The princes lap would be the perfect location too. Although Satan has never sat in it, it looks incredibly warm and comfortable. In fact—  
_...What is he doing?  
Why is he fantasizing about this?_

He can feel the frustration within him begin to grow. How _does_ Lucifer manage?  
Satan doesn’t know how the demon is able to get any work done. Or how he can stay so calm.  
And Diavolo certainly isn’t helping. The man is almost impossible to ignore. Even when Satan isn’t talking to him, he’s always aware of his presence.  
Soon, Satan tells himself time and time again, it’s all going to go away soon.  
But it doesn’t. No matter what he does it remains there, burning in the back of his mind.  
Repressing it is difficult, the most difficult thing he’s ever done.  
He would sooner take his rage over _this_.  
At least anger, in all of its forms, makes sense.

Satan starts to collect his things. A plan begins to formulate in his mind. First, he’ll block Diavolo’s number and then—

Diavolo’s voice rings out across the room,  
“Ah, before you all leave, I have a gift!”

The prince snaps his fingers, and seven bookmarks appear on the table.  
“To mark the beginning of a new semester! I got one for each of you, so make sure to continue to give it your all!”

No one else comments on it, but Satan catches onto his joke right away.  
_How cheesy._  
Yet he can’t stop his lips from quirking up in amusement. The desire to come up with a retort, to call them re **mark** able is there, but Satan crushes it.

Mammon is the first to grab one. He flips it over and frowns.  
“Ya didn’t even write our names on ‘em!”

Diavolo just laughs.  
“You are all a bunch of smart demons, I’m sure you can figure out who is who’s. Besides, the pictures give it away!”

Lucifer lets out an amused snort.  
“I assume the peacock is mine then?”

“Of course.”

It isn’t hard for Satan to figure out which one is his. The kitten is a dead giveaway. It’s an incredibly cute bookmark too. The tiny cat on the front of it almost looks like Pumpkin. If Satan closes his eyes, he can almost hear their adorable little mews. But the prince’s laughter echoes in the background of that memory, so he brushes it aside and flips the bookmark over.

Unlike the rest of his brothers, it isn’t blank. He's greeted with a message, one covered in hearts.

> _If I were a cat, I would spend all nine lives with you.  
>  ~ XOXO Dia_

Satan’s brain short circuits.  
_Why did he…?_  
His heart begins to flutter, and his face turns bright red.

Mammon’s voice tethers him back to the present.  
“Yo Satan, you okay?”

His brother leans in closer, to try and get a glimpse at whatever made Satan flush and stiffen up. And once Satan notices the gesture, his blush worsens.  
“I’m fine!”

He presses the bookmark up against his chest, and stumbles backwards.

“What are ya being so skittish about? Lemme see!”

“ **No!** ”  
_No one can read this!_  
How the fuck would he even explain it?  
_...B-Besides, it’s a message that’s only for him._  
So…  
“ **Fuck off!** ”

“It’s just a bookmark! What’s the big deal?”

And Diavolo has the audacity to laugh.  
“Go easy on him Mammon. Besides, I have an important announcement to make!”

That causes everyone to still.  
And then Satan notices something, something that had completely slipped his mind while he was distracted.  
There’s an extra bookmark on the table, one with a cow on it.  
And he isn’t the only one who’s picked up on it.  
Beel sounds more excited then he’s been in years.  
“Is Belphie coming back?!”

Diavolo nods.  
“Belphegor will be returning from his study abroad, and will be joining us this semester. I was hoping to throw him a welcome back party!”

“When will we see him?”

“Tomorrow, if everything goes according to plan.”

And just like that, the room comes alive. The six of them immediately begin to plan everything out.  
Belphegor’s been away for an incredibly long time. Satan can’t even remember their last conversation, only that it was a fight. One that thankfully didn’t end in bloodshed.  
In truth, he was never all that close with him, not as much as Beel was at least. Yet he still missed him.  
They all did.  
And now Belphie gets to come back home.

He’s excited about seeing him again, he truly is.  
But there’s something else that eats away at him, that dampens that joy.  
Diavolo’s handwritten message is ingrained into his head. It makes him feel… strange.  
He’ll be happy about Belphegor later.  
Right now, he needs answers.  
“Diavolo, can we talk?”

“Of course!”

Satan eyes his brothers, who have now turned to look at the two of them with varying states of confusion. And there’s a pause as everyone waits for Satan to speak.  
But this is one conversation that they don’t get to overhear, one that Satan wants to keep between him and Diavolo.

“ **In private.** ”

The prince nods, and his brothers slowly begin to file out. With the wave of Diavolo’s hand the doors slam shut, and a light wave of magic coats the room.  
“There, now no one should be able to listen in on us.  
So, what did you want to talk about?”

 _As if it isn’t obvious._  
For some reason Diavolo’s nonchalant attitude is aggravating him. Does he not realize how close they were to being found out?  
If any of his brothers had seen it...

Satan slams the bookmark down on the table.  
“What is this?”

Diavolo simply raises his brow.  
“It’s a bookmark.”

 _Oh, he thinks he’s being cute._  
“I know that! I’m talking about what you wrote on the back.”

“Do you not like it? I was unsure of which one to use, but I suppose I could always pick a different one if you—“

No. The line itself doesn’t matter. Any one of them would have made Satan blush. It’s the fact that he wanted to use one at all, that it was a deliberate choice.  
_Just what is he playing at?_  
“ **Don’t.** And I never want to see you pulling another stunt like that again.”

Diavolo smirks.  
“Are you sure?”

What kind of question is that?  
“Of course I am.”

So why doesn’t he feel confident in saying that?  
Why is there a shred of doubt within him, one that’s beginning to grow?  
Satan’s life is already a mess, the last thing he needs is for Diavolo’s flirting to add even more things to it.  
...He should walk away, before he second guesses himself, before he does something stupid.  
But for once in his life, Satan is choosing to completely ignore his head. He’s following his heart, and right now it’s full of an anger that demands some sort of answer.  
And he’s not leaving until he gets one.

Diavolo’s hand cups his cheek, jolting his thoughts. Satan never registered how close they were, until now at least. When did they…?  
The prince slowly tilts his head towards him so that way their eyes meet. This is dangerous. This is something that he wanted to avoid. Diavolo’s eyes are just as warm and stunning as he remembers. It makes his mind go all hazy.

Diavolo is serious, stern. But all Satan sees is gold.  
“Then look me in the eyes when you say that. Tell me that you want absolutely nothing to do with me, and I will leave you alone.”

No. It’s hard to function like this. He can barely string together a sentence. There’s no way he can lie straight to Diavolo’s face.  
Because that’s what it would be. He doesn’t know what he wants from Diavolo, from any of this. But despite all of the turmoil within him, there’s one thing that he knows for sure.  
He doesn’t want Diavolo to leave him alone.

Eventually he manages to piece together a response. “I…”  
_Fuck Diavolo’s eyes are pretty. Focus on something else._  
His gaze shifts over to the empty space next to Diavolo’s head. That’s better. Safer.  
“...I don’t want scribbling things like that on my stuff. Anyone could read it.”

Diavolo giggles, and that sound makes that feeling inside of him grow worse. Satan begins to tense; his entire body is nothing but a coil that’s ready to spring.  
He already feels like he’s dangerously close to losing his mind.  
Just one more comment from Diavolo and—

“Oh, then would you rather hear it in person?  
My dear sweet Satan, even if there wasn’t gravity in the Devildom, I would still fall for you.”

And something inside of him snaps.  
It all makes sense now. The bookmark, the flirtatious glances, that coy grin.  
Diavolo was taunting him, dangling his victory right in front of his face.  
_Bastard._

In a wave of fury Satan transforms and shoves Diavolo up against the wall. He pins him in and snarls, “ **You’re mocking me.** ”

But Diavolo doesn’t look frightened, or confused.  
He merely seems amused; as if Satan simply told him a vaguely funny joke, and isn’t glaring at him with murderous intent while his claws start to tear and ruin his uniform.

Diavolo’s badge falls on the floor. The sound echoes across the room, but Diavolo’s expression doesn’t change. If anything he seems… excited?  
_How infuriating._  
The prince should be shivering in fear. He should be absolutely terrified.

But Diavolo never follows any of his expectations. So instead he remains completely unperturbed, and addresses Satan by raising his brow.  
“Oh, how so?”

“ **You’re shoving your victory in my** —“

Diavolo’s hand skims over Satan’s waist, and he tugs him closer, pressing their bodies up against one other. A gasp falls from Satan’s lips.  
The prince then softy purrs into his ear, “Are you sure _that’s_ what I want to shove into you?”

_Ah._

Satan’s face burns, along with his entire body. He feels hot, far too hot. The anger within him is twisting and churning along with something else.  
It’s driving him crazy.

And that look, that half lidded gaze that Diavolo is giving him… it seems to fuel it. Satan isn’t sure what he wants to do. Whether he wants to punch him or kiss him.  
The prince waggles his eyebrows, and Satan can definitely feel himself leaning towards the punching bit.

“Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?”

Diavolo chuckles.  
“Not on purpose, but I suppose I can’t help but admire the results.”

 _...The results?_  
“What are you talking about?”

“Your rage, in all of its forms, is beautiful. How could I be anything other than—“

“ **Shut up.** ”

He can’t hear any more. His heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. Nothing about his anger is sexy or appealing. It causes either fear or disgust, not… this. But Diavolo is looking at him as if he’s the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. It’s a look that’s a million times warmer than what the prince was showing Lucifer a moment ago. And it’s a look that’s reserved for him alone.

Satan closes his eyes, and attempts to collect himself. But that’s hard, especially when Diavolo begins to fidget and move. It’s a terrible idea, given how close their bodies are. So the only thing it does is create even more friction in between them. Only this friction is physical, and causes the two of them to hiss.

The prince’s grip tightens for a moment, and his voice sounds incredibly strained.  
“My dear, unless you plan on doing something about it, you should probably leave.”

Satan growls, “You don’t need to tell me twice,” and finally pulls away. He stalks out of the room; but before he leaves, he makes sure to grab Diavolo’s gift off the table and shove it into his pocket.

~+~+

When Satan enters his room, the first thing he does is grab that tome and burn it.  
At long last, _The Forbidden Tome of Dum As Airy_ is no more.  
It is satisfying, but not as much as he had hoped. It changes nothing. The damage has already been done, and that feeling is most definitely still there.

Satan pulls the bookmark out of his pocket to destroy it as well, but…  
The kitten's face is looking up at him, and all he can see is Pumpkin; Pumpkin and their siblings playing with Diavolo, as the prince laughs and meows along with them.  
He flips the bookmark over, and is greeted with the prince’s message.

> _If I were a cat, I would spend all nine lives with you.  
>  ~ XOXO Dia_

He signed it off with his nickname, the one that only Satan has ever called him. The multitude of hearts that cover the back of it mimic his own. It’s overflowing with affection, the very affection that Satan felt towards him back then, and the affection that he’s currently feeling right now. He can feel himself begin to blush.  
It’s all horribly cliche, and yet Satan can’t get rid of the bookmark that’s in his hands. He doesn’t want to.

He sets it down on his dresser and sighs. This crush is incredibly stupid. Why is it taking so long to go away?

A spellbook in the corner of the room catches his eye, and Satan grins.  
_I suppose I’ll have to take matters into my own hands._

~+~+

Satan looks at the bookmark and a round of manic laughter leaves his lips.  
It took all night and eight cups of coffee, but he finally perfected it. 

He was able to complete the ritual, and remove that crush all together. Now there is nothing to interpret or understand. He can live the rest of his life completely stress free. 

And the bookmark is proof of that. Now he can look at it and feel absolutely nothing towards Diavolo. The butterflies are completely gone. There’s no softness, no blushing, no warmth. It’s just a cute bookmark with a meaningless pickup line scribbled on the back. It might as well have been from a complete stranger.

He’s never felt more alive, more accomplished.  
But the real test still awaits him. Belphegor’s party begins soon, and Diavolo will have no choice but to attend it.  
Yet Satan doesn’t feel anxious at all.  
He should have cursed himself sooner.

Despite the fact that he’s gotten absolutely no sleep, Satan still manages to arrive on time, not a hair out of place. The first thing he notices is Diavolo, but his heart doesn’t do anything strange or weird.  
He feels… normal.  
_It really did work!_

He lets out a sigh of relief, and goes to talk to Belphegor.  
His brother is just as he remembered him. A perpetual scowl on his face and a tired look in his eye.  
But Satan can see through all of that, they all can. He’s just as ecstatic as the rest of them.  
They were a family before, but now they are reunited.  
Now everyone is together.  
And Belphegor has a lot of catching up to do.

~+~+

It takes several rounds of drinks, but he finally seems up to speed with everything. At least, that’s what Satan assumes, judging by his laughter.

Diavolo lingers in the corner of his eye, but that’s okay. The curse is still completely operational. Satan doesn’t feel anything. So there’s no need to hide.  
He meets Diavolo’s gaze head on.  
The prince flashes him a coy grin and a wink, and Satan looks away.  
It’s only because he doesn’t want to be caught. The last thing he needs is any of his brothers asking questions about the two of them. That’s all it is.  
It has absolutely nothing to do with that crush.  
Satan got rid of it.

Still, he’s starting to feel a bit… off. He should probably avoid Diavolo altogether, just to be safe.  
The demon seems to thrive off of his attention, and it was a mistake to give him even a smidgen of it. Because now Diavolo refuses to leave him alone.  
Throughout the party, Satan can feel his gaze. It lazily roams over him, no matter where he’s at. And Diavolo doesn’t even look ashamed when Satan catches him. Doesn’t he have better things to do? ...Not that it matters, the prince is free to do whatever he wants.  
Satan doesn’t care.

Belphegor walks over to him, and Satan remembers why they were throwing this party in the first place.  
It’s all for Belphie. And for his younger brother, he will throw all of those doubts aside.  
He can worry about whatever’s going on with Diavolo later.

Even though he and Belphegor were never on bad terms, he’s still surprised when Belphegor hugs him.  
...It really has been awhile. He had forgotten how cute his little brother used to be.  
The two of them chat a bit, and isn’t long before that incident is brought up.  
“Mammon told me that you and Lucifer switched bodies.”

Satan nods. 

“So what did you do?”

“I mostly stuck around Diavolo.”

Yes, there was a lot of paperwork involved, but most of his time was spent by Diavolo’s side. They chatted, and held one another, and…  
It’s unimportant. That’s all in the past.

Belphegor groans.  
“Ugh, that sounds like a nightmare. I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

 _A nightmare._ Satan frowns. Something about that doesn’t sit right with him. In truth, being with Diavolo was amazing. The game that they played with one another was the most fun that Satan’s had in years, and the prince is the only demon capable of beating him.  
The aftermath is a mess, but the event itself was an adventure. One that Satan doesn’t regret, despite everything.

“I mean, being in Lucifer’s body sucked, but the other parts weren’t bad.”

“Heh, I would have pulled so many pranks.”

A mischievous grin paints Belphegor’s face, and Satan mirrors it with one of his own.

“Believe me, it was tempting. I got some good pictures out of it though, I’ll text them to you.”

“How embarrassing are they?”

“His face is smothered in whipped cream in one of them.”

“Perfect.”

It had been such a long time, but it’s nice to finally have the Anti Lucifer League back together. The two of them have a lot of pranks to catch up on after all.  
This year is going to be fun.

Eventually Belphegor moves on to chat with the others. Beel smothers his twin with a gigantic hug, and the two of them laugh. They probably won’t be moving for a while.  
The same, however, cannot be said for Diavolo.  
The prince refuses to stay still, and is constantly within Satan’s line of sight. He sends Satan an over the top kissy face, and like before, that expression vanishes as soon as he’s within someone else’s field of vision.  
The man is playing with fire, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets burned.

It’s a lot to risk for such a childish game. And Satan refuses to admit that it amuses him. That he enjoys the prince's antics.  
It doesn’t affect him anymore. The curse made sure of that. But still…  
Watching Diavolo is fun. Especially when he’s in a playful mood.

Satan isn’t sure what expression is on his face right now, but Diavolo seems incredibly pleased with it.  
His smile is blinding, and the winks that he throws Satan’s way make him want to laugh.  
That ends up being Diavolo’s downfall. Because in the midst of all of that, he had completely forgotten about Barbatos. The prince nearly trips over his butler and knocks over a candelabra.

He hastily tries to fix it, but in doing so he gets tangled up in a bunch of the streamers. The prince falls to the floor with a yelp, and Satan is giggling before he knows it. And, while Diavolo’s on the floor, he grins at Satan and attempts to flirtatiously wave at him. _What a dork._

Diavolo then fights with the streamers as he tries to get back up, and that feeling hits him once more.  
Satan’s breath hitches, and his heart skips a beat.  
The crush is back, and it’s louder than ever.  
_It’s supposed to be gone!_  
But now that Satan knows it’s there, it’s all he can think about. It’s the only thing he can feel.  
He wants to take Diavolo and—

...He has to get out of here.  
Satan turns, and calmly makes his way towards the exit. But Diavolo teleports in front of him, blocking his path.

“Satan, before you leave, I wanted to congratulate you on your performance in your Devildom history class last semester. Once again you received absolutely perfect scores.”

_Thump. Thump._

He needs to make this conversation quick.  
“There’s really no need—“

“It makes sense after all. It’s easy for a 10/10 to score a 10/10, right?”

_Thump. Thump._

Diavolo continues.  
“Although I suppose for you that isn’t all that accurate! You are definitely more of an 11/10.”

_Thump. Thump._

He has to say something, anything! It doesn’t matter.  
**He has to leave.**  
“You too.”

Not that! That doesn’t even make any sense!

Diavolo is similarly confused.  
“What?”

“I have to go.”  
And with that, Satan pushes him aside and scrambles out of the room.

~+~+

He arrives at his bedroom, and picks up the spell book from before. There’s a warning at the bottom of the page, one that he had neglected to read.

> **Warning** : Can only be used once. Only works on the most superficial of crushes. Otherwise the effect is temporary, with its duration decreasing according to how strong the feeling is.

_...It only lasted for half an hour.  
How badly does Lucifer like the guy?!_

The book begins to crumble in his hands, flames licking away at the pages. Yes, this is all Lucifer’s fault. It’s his crush that is making Satan feel like this. And it’s because of the strength of his feelings that it refuses to go away. It’s torture; far worse then any punishment Lucifer has ever given him.

 _...Yes, that’s it!_  
Lucifer is doing this on purpose. He’s getting revenge over all of the dumb pictures that Satan took of him when their bodies were swapped.  
Lucifer did suspiciously brush all of that aside. Satan should have realized it sooner.  
The sadistic bastard must have been enjoying himself.

Still, Lucifer should have known better than to toy with his feelings. He is the Avatar of Wrath after all, perhaps he should give him a reminder.  
Satan laughs.  
He’s tired of waiting around.  
If this crush isn’t going to go away on his own, then he will make Lucifer take it back.  
And if he needs to use force, well…  
He’s been wanting to fight Lucifer for a **very** long time.

~+~+

Finding him is easy. Lucifer practically never leaves his office. So Satan breaks down his door and throws a chair at him. He expects Lucifer to dodge it. That’s what he’s always done.  
But this time, he doesn’t. Lucifer lets the attack hit him. The chair slams into the demon’s side, knocking him to the floor. Papers fly everywhere, and there’s a cut on Lucifer’s cheek.  
He’s bleeding.

Satan’s mind is blank. He’s never seen Lucifer get hurt before, not since…  
...It doesn’t matter.  
It’s his fault for not moving out of the way.  
This is a sight that should make him happy. Lucifer is on his knees, and Satan stands tall before him.  
It’s the very moment that he’s dreamed of; something that he’s wanted from the second he was born.  
It would be so easy to crush him, to slam his foot on top of Lucifer’s back over and over again.

But there is no joy to be found in this. And the only thing he feels is the desire to wipe that spec of blood away.

Their eyes meet.  
“Do you feel better?”

 _No._  
Fantasy, as it turns out, is incredibly different from reality. Because as often as he’s dreamed of punching Lucifer is the face, in actuality he can’t stand the idea of him getting hurt.  
The blood in front of him is proof of that. It makes him feel nauseous.  
He hates what Lucifer is, but…  
He does not hate the man himself.

Satan’s arm extends towards him before he can stop it.  
And although his hand quivers once he notices what he’s done, he doesn’t take it back.  
No words are exchanged, but after a moment or two Lucifer accepts it. 

Once he’s standing, Satan rips their hands apart.  
Lucifer dusts himself off, and wipes the blood away with his thumb.  
So… where does this leave them at?  
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.  
Lucifer should be annoyed or intimidated by him at least, not doing him a _favor_.  
The audacity of him, letting himself get hurt in order to improve Satan’s mood…  
_Who even does that?_

The anger within him grows.  
Lucifer should be mad. He should be lecturing him or stringing him up on the ceiling. But instead he’s doing _this_. And that’s ruining the dynamic that they’ve had for over a millennia.  
They fight. They bicker, taunt, and ignore one another. Satan tries to hurt him, and Lucifer refuses to be harmed.  
But now that’s out of the picture.  
Because if he ever sees Lucifer bleed again, he might actually vomit.  
So what do they do now?  
How is Satan supposed to interact with him?

...If he can’t follow through with any of his actions, then he will have to use his words. He hasn’t forgotten his original intention after all. He still needs to get rid of his feelings for Diavolo.  
And Lucifer is the reason that they're there.

So Satan closes his eyes, counts to ten, and addresses Lucifer with a snarl.  
“Take it back.”

“Take what back?”

“I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never mess with you again. So take your stupid crush back. I don’t want it.”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Satan growls, and resists the urge to wring Lucifer’s neck.  
“Don’t play dumb with me!”

Even thinking about Diavolo makes him feel weird. This feeling is far too soft, far too light and happy, to belong to him.  
He is a monster. He is wrath itself.  
Crushes are foreign to him.  
“The warmth, the admiration, the desire; I’ve never felt anything like this until I entered **your** body.”

It’s still incredibly new. He still doesn’t know how to process it, how to handle the millions of feelings that Diavolo creates just from his smile alone.  
No other demon has stirred him up like this.  
He had forgotten that he even had a heart, and now he feels it beat every single day.  
And it’s all because of the prince, and his dumb eyes, his incredibly pretty hair, his adorable laugh, the way he tries to balance a pen on his nose when he’s bored…  
_He’s doing it again, isn’t he?_

A curse escapes Satan’s lips.  
No matter what he does, his thoughts eventually drift towards him. And every single one of them is incredibly mushy and sweet.  
“Now every time I see Diavolo it’s the only thing that’s on my damned mind!”

He can’t escape them. He’s spent weeks trying.  
Nothing is normal. And lying to himself isn’t going to change that.  
That incident, that wretched tome, has ruined everything. Satan’s life was defined by those patterns, by his day to day elements that never changed. Even when their bodies were swapped, he had assumed that he could always go back to it.  
But now there is nothing.  
His life is never going to be the same.  
And that makes him **livid**.

He growls as he grips Lucifer’s coat.  
“Your soft and gushy feelings for him are driving me mad! So take them back!”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, and then he flashes Satan a look of concern.  
“Satan, I’ve studied that tome from cover to cover.  
It says nothing about transferring over emotions, and even then it doesn’t matter.  
I’ve never been in love with Lord Diavolo.”

 _Love? Who said anything about love?_  
And how dare he try to deny feeling something for the prince. Satan was there. He was in Lucifer’s place.  
He knows all about the bond that they share.

“Don't treat me like I’m Mammon. I know about your special little relationship with him.”

“Relationship? You still think—“

“I don’t know how long the two of you have been intimate for, but I experienced enough—“

“Satan, Lord Diavolo and I have never had any romantic feelings for each other.”

That’s impossible. With everything that the two of them did, all of the dates, the caresses, the—  
...the fact that Diavolo knew the entire time.  
The prince would never have been able to keep it a secret, not from someone he loved. And Lucifer is so possessive that he probably would have killed Satan on the spot.  
But that never happened. So either Lucifer doesn’t know, or he doesn’t care.  
And if that’s the case… then they were never together.

 _No. There has to be another explanation._  
“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? I have nothing to lose, and I refuse to hide even a single aspect of myself. Trust me, if I was ever in any sort of relationship, you and everyone else in the Devildom would know about it.”

Bold words coming from him. Lucifer lies to himself all the time, and today is no exception.

“What about Solomon?”

It’s subtle, but Satan can see how Lucifer’s shoulders tense.  
“...What does he have to do with any of this?”

He has everything to do with it. Lucifer has tried to cover it as up much as he can, but Satan can see right through him. For some inexplicable reason Lucifer looks sad anytime the sorcerer enters the room.  
It’s disgusting really, how pathetically he’s pining after him. Especially when he has the prince at his side.  
And what a cruel thing to do.  
How could he break Diavolo’s heart like that?

“I’m not blind. You stare at him with those dumb puppy eyes when Diavolo is right there!”

Lucifer’s composed visage cracks, and he lets out a growl.  
“ **There are no puppy eyes.** ”  
He pauses to take a deep breath. It’s amazing; how easily he’s able to calm himself down.  
Satan can’t relate.

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation. He sounds incredibly tired, as if this is a conversation that they’ve already had before.  
“Lord Diavolo means nothing to me.”

“So what, you’re breaking up with him?”  
If that’s the case, then Lucifer has terrible taste in men.  
Who would pick Solomon over _him_?  
Diavolo is clearly the better choice. Everything about him is perfect… for the most part.  
He is a demon worth holding onto.

“Satan, I can't break up with him because we were never together.”

 _No. That’s impossible._  
If they were never together, then...

Lucifer continues.  
“Lord Diavolo and I have never shared an intimate moment with one another. He has only ever paid me incredibly embarrassing compliments.”

The concern is there once more. Satan hates it.  
“...What did he do to you?”

“Nothing.”  
_But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?_  
Maybe if he had just caved in, if he had just kissed Diavolo every time the desire popped up, then maybe this stupid crush wouldn’t be consuming his every thought. Maybe then it would have been easier to manage.

Satan sighs. “This is nothing. I just haven’t found the right spell to get rid of it yet—“

“Satan.”  
Lucifer places a hand on his shoulder, and Satan feels incredibly confused. They don’t… do this. Those gestures of familiarity occur between him and his brothers. Lucifer never touches him, unless it’s to scold him. They have never been close enough, open enough, with one another to warrant this kind of affection. But for some reason Satan doesn’t feel disgusted by it, and he doesn’t want to pull away.

 _Ah, they are going to have to handle this like adults, aren’t they?_ No fighting, no childish fits. They are past that now. And the idea of trying to fight one another brings back bad memories, of a terrible curse that managed to change their entire lives, and of a bloodstained cheek.

Perhaps Lucifer isn’t as unaffected by it as Satan thought. Lucifer has always excelled at hiding his emotions. His pride is far too great to allow for things like compassion or love. So he masks it all with that pompous smirk. And now, whenever Solomon enters the room, he struggles to keep it on. Whether Lucifer likes it or not, his life has been changed too.  
...It’s strange. That entire incident has created somewhat of a bridge between the two of them. After all, no one else can understand what it’s like to switch bodies with someone who was once a part of you, and to have new feelings arise as a consequence of it.  
Now they’re in the same boat. And they are its only passengers.

Satan groans. He already knows what’s coming next.  
There will be another revelation at the end of this conversation. A part of him is tired of it, he’s still reeling from the last one. But Lucifer’s grip on his shoulder tightens. Whatever this revelation is, he won’t be the only one experiencing it. Another change is on the horizon, and they will have to face it together. But this time, it’s their choice.

Lucifer takes a deep breath, and then looks Satan in the eye.  
“The day you were born was one of the worst days of my life.”

_Oh._

“I had lost everything. My home, part of my family, the love of my life. They had all... abandoned me, and I was unable to get revenge, to hurt my father in the same way that he had hurt me.  
The anger that I felt that day was unimaginable. I was angry at my father, but most of all I was angry at myself.”

Satan frowns.  
“I know, I was there.”

“Then reflect. On the day of your birth, what did you feel?”

It was such a long time ago, but Satan can still recall everything as if it were yesterday.  
“...Anger.”

“At who?”

“At Michael. At all of our brothers and sisters who sided against us. At the celestial father, for claiming to love us as he killed us off one by one.”  
His nails dig into his pants, ripping holes in the fabric.  
“He looked down on us in _pity_ once we lost, and I wanted to tear his throat **into _pieces_**.”

“Do you get it now?”  
Lucifer’s voice is incredibly soft and gentle. He’s never heard him sound like that before.  
“Your anger is different from my own. Even when we shared the same body, you have always been your own person.  
I do not know what you are feeling Satan, but know that whatever it is, it’s an emotion that belongs to you and you alone.”

And there it is. Another revelation. Something that Satan has always known, but struggled to believe.  
_...I’ve always been my own person?_  
That’s… not entirely true, is it?  
He’s the Avatar of Wrath, he can’t feel things like this. So that feeling in his chest has to belong to someone else, otherwise…  
His first instinct is to take the easy way out, to blame Lucifer like he always does and ignore it all. But his words make sense, and Satan knows that he’s telling the truth. They had only switched bodies, nothing else was different. The only thing that changed was their outer shell. And if this feeling didn’t come from him, then there is only one other option left. 

Satan’s mind goes blank at the implication.  
_No. There’s no way._

Lucifer sighs.  
“You are an adult Satan. And I think that’s a concept that’s always been difficult for me to grasp.”

He steps back, and digs something out of his pocket.  
“So I will not get in the way. I will trust in you, and allow you to forge your own connections as you see fit. Therefore I have no choice but to give you this.”

He places a very familiar looking charm on the table.  
“I found this once we changed back into our original bodies. I tried to give it back to Lord Diavolo, but he said it was yours. Do with it what you will.”

Lucifer leaves, and Satan takes everything back. They should have just fought. Screw handling this like adults, he doesn’t want to deal with this at all. This crush, which has haunted him for over several months, that can belong to no one else other than him.  
_No. No. No. No. No. No. No._

The charm glints on the table, and Satan automatically remembers the day that Diavolo gave it to him. The smile on the prince's face, how Satan was dazzled by his beauty, the dance that followed afterwards...  
A wave of fondness rushes through him, and his heart thrums in response. Satan tries to crush it, to silence his beating heart, but it refuses. The damn thing pounds away, and more pleasant memories are brought to the surface. There’s so many of them, too many to count.

His brain finally settles on a present one; the party this morning, with Diavolo knocking over a candelabra and getting tangled in a bunch of streamers. _Oh, that’s right._ This feeling doesn’t just belong to the past. It’s also something that he’s currently experiencing right now.  
… _No. That’s impossible._ He is a monster, he _can’t_ —  
That stupid charm glints again, and Satan feels his sanity begin to slip. He needs to calm down.  
So he snatches the charm, takes a deep breath, and goes to the most relaxing place he knows: the library.

~+~+

His mind is buzzing, and Lucifer’s implication still rings in his head.  
_This emotion is my own._  
What does that even mean? The only thing Satan owns is his rage. He’s the Avatar of Wrath after all. He can’t _own_ anything else.  
So why can’t he believe that?  
...Why can’t he dismiss Lucifer’s words like how he usually does?

It would be so much easier if he could put this all behind him. If he could just hate the prince.  
But for some reason he can’t.  
Or perhaps there is a reason, one that Satan has thrown aside time and time again.  
It’s that crush. _His_ crush.

 _He has a crush on Diavolo._  
His heart begins to pound. Satan tries to take that feeling and throw it away, but it doesn’t work. He’s never listened to it before, but now it refuses to be ignored. It screams and rattles in his chest.  
_Let yourself be happy._ His attempts to silence it are getting weaker. _Give in. You miss him._

There’s a crunching of wood, and Satan frowns once he sees the ruined table in front of him.  
Thankfully the library is pretty much empty, he would have been kicked out otherwise. Still, he needs to relax, before anything else gets destroyed.

Reading. That’s what he needs to do. He just needs a good book. That will fix everything.  
Satan automatically gravitates towards a nearby bookshelf. His hand randomly snatches up one of the books, and he scowls once he reads the title.  
_The Prince’s Heart._

It’s a fairytale. A story about two people falling in love. ...It doesn't matter. Reading has never failed to calm him down. And he doesn’t have enough time to find a different book.  
His emotions are a mess, and right now he needs to drown them out with something else. Any book, any genre, will do. Even if it’s about the power of true love, it’s at least something. Besides, it’s not like he’s ever going to experience it for himself.  
So Satan opens it up, and begins to read.  


>   
> 
> 
> ~•~
> 
>   
>  _Once upon a time, there was a young girl who lived in a small, quaint village. She was incredibly intelligent and witty. Adored by all who met her, she was the shining star of that entire kingdom.  
>  Yet few people knew what she was actually like. For the very persona that those people loved was nothing but a mask. And she was afraid to show anyone what laid underneath.  
> There was no one out there who could love someone like her. Or so she thought.  
> For you see, the day she met the prince, that had all changed._
> 
> __
> 
> _He was charming as well, albeit in an entirely different way. Everyone in the kingdom adored him, and he loved them in return. So he poured his heart and soul into it, leaving nothing for himself.  
>  He had thought the same. That no one would ever love the man that laid underneath the crown._
> 
> __
> 
> _They were two souls that were destined to be alone.  
>  But fate is a funny thing, as is destiny. And they both failed to realize that it cannot be predicted, that nothing is ever set in stone. No one, no matter who they are, will ever exist without love. So they meet, of course they do._
> 
> __
> 
> _It happens on a day like any other,_ in a council room, where the prince looks down upon his newest subject in awe.
> 
> “This,” the oldest among them declares, “is Satan, The Avatar of Wrath, and my brother.”
> 
> And Satan looks up at the throne, bows, and offers the prince a polite grin.  
>  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
> 
> In another world, another universe, Diavolo would have slowly stood up, and walked over to place a kiss on top of Satan’s hand.  
>  “The pleasure’s all mine.”
> 
> Their eyes would meet, and they would feel it within their chest.  
>  _Love at first sight._  
> 
> 
> ~•~

...Wait, why did he make this story about him and Diavolo?  
Why was he picturing the two of them as characters in a romantic fairytale?  
They. Aren’t. In. Love.  
Satan growls and slams the book shut.

That wasn’t even how their first meeting went. There were no kisses, and no earth shattering revelations. It was all incredibly uneventful.  
Lucifer presented him, and then dragged him away before he could be an embarrassment. And before he was born, well…  
Satan didn’t like Diavolo, nor did Lucifer. They had both hated him.

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

Now he is incredibly important to the both of them, albeit for entirely different reasons. With Lucifer, it’s due to a sense of gratitude. Diavolo had prevented Lilith from being erased after all, and he gave them all a home.  
And with Satan; it’s due to a smile, to kind words that were whispered in his ear, to affectionate gestures that many would be too afraid to attempt. Diavolo gave him more than a home. He made him feel like he belonged somewhere.  
So how could Satan not like him?

That feeling swirls around in his chest once more, and he frowns. Unfortunately what he feels is far more complicated than that. The word like isn’t enough.  
So by default that makes it a—

His phone vibrates, interrupting his thoughts.  
And Satan doesn’t need to look at his phone in order to know who it’s from.  
Still, he expects to see a cat meme, or another terrible pickup line. But instead he gets something different, something that he will never admit that he missed.

> Diavolo: Good morning!

He used to get texts like this all the time, back when he was in Lucifer’s body. The prince never failed to text him good morning and good night, and never threw a fuss if Satan didn’t respond. There was a comfort in it. A sense of ease.  
It was an incredibly small gesture, and yet it never failed to brighten his day.

> Diavolo: But I guess it’s not really morning anymore, is it?
> 
> Satan: It’s 11:00 AM. That still counts.
> 
> Diavolo: Good.  
>  Is this okay?
> 
> Satan: What do you mean?
> 
> Diavolo: Texting. Talking. Are you okay with it?
> 
> Satan: Yes.
> 
> Diavolo: I’m glad to hear it. I’ve missed you.

_I’ve missed you._  
That single sentence echoes across Satan’s mind. It makes him feel happy, and incredibly warm.  
He thought that everything between the two of them had ended, but… maybe they can pick up where they left off. His heart seems to approve of the idea, Satan can practically feel it hum with satisfaction. 

He can’t repress it, not completely. Something about this feeling, this crush, is completely different from the anger that has defined his entire life. And it belongs to him. The thought is still shocking. It doesn’t seem real. 

His phone vibrates again, and this time it is a cat meme. It’s a picture of a cat hanging off a tree with the words _‘Hang in there!’_ written at the bottom. Satan laughs, and texts Diavolo an emoji to show his approval.

How could he feel something so sweet, so…nice?  
It should belong to someone else, but without Lucifer, there is no one else left. And as much as he wants to, he can’t blame him for this. Because Lucifer is right, and a part of Satan had always known it.  
They are two completely different people.  
His crush on Diavolo isn’t something they share.  
It belongs entirely to him.

And that in itself is incredibly strange. Even though logically it makes sense… he is still the Avatar of Wrath. A monster. A creature born of anger and hatred. He shouldn’t be able to own something like this.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, when he notices one of Lucifer’s portraits proudly displayed on the Library wall.  
It’s one of his better ones at least. And a long time ago, he used to look like that too… for the most part. They had once shared a body. Yet they were never the same person, not truly. Still, Lucifer is the original, and he exceeds Satan in every single way. No matter what he does, Satan has always been second best. He’s never been enough.

So Satan clings to his title, the one thing that belongs to him. He is the Avatar of Wrath. He is rage incarnate.  
And he is incapable of love.  
In the long expanse of time that he’s been conscious, that he’s been sentient, he’s never felt anything close to a crush.  
So what is he supposed to do?

...Is there a guide for something like this?  
There has to be.  
Maybe that’s his problem. He just hasn’t found the right book yet.

Satan scrambles on over to the Self Help section, and manages to find exactly what he’s looking for. A book titled _How to Deal with Having a Crush_.

How convenient. Satan snags it and begins reading right away.

> ~•~
> 
>   
>  _Don’t worry, there’s no need to panic! Many demons get thousands of crushes throughout their lifetime!_
> 
> __
> 
> _Crushes are fickle things that often come and go. Many demons ignore them, and find that their feelings have faded away over time. So there’s no need to stress or worry! What you feel is simply a natural part of life._
> 
> __
> 
> _Falling in love, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. In fact, a simple crush has the ability to turn into—_  
> 
> 
> ~•~
> 
>   
> 

Satan stops reading, and lets out a relieved sigh. He’s already found his answer, and it’s an incredibly simple one.  
Crushes are absolutely meaningless.

There’s nothing groundbreaking about wanting to hold Diavolo’s hand, or about that light and happy feeling he gets every time they interact. It’s normal, something that other demons have felt before. So it’s fine. Everything is perfect.  
All he has to do is ignore it, and it will go away.

He has to be careful though, he can’t ignore Diavolo in return. The prince will become suspicious otherwise. And the last thing he wants is for Diavolo to find out. He would never be able to live it down, and his feelings are clearly one sided. Yes, no matter how much Diavolo may miss him, or how much the prince may flirt or wink, he could never feel the same.  
He is Satan after all, and Diavolo must have _some_ standards.

But that’s okay, all Satan has to do is balance everything out; spend time with Diavolo, but not enough to the point where his feelings take over, and most importantly, not to panic. Because eventually it will fade away, and he’ll be able to put all of this behind him. Until then, all he has to do is exist alongside it. 

Yes, Satan likes the sound of that. Unlike his old plan, this new one is completely foolproof. After all, how badly could someone fail at not succumbing to a crush?


	2. Chapter 2

The sunlight should have been the first sign. They don’t get that in the Devildom. But it pours through the window and softly caresses Diavolo’s frame. The entire kitchen is basked in that golden hue, and a warm breeze wafts throughout the room.  
It’s calm. Peaceful. Serene.  
And Diavolo fits into it perfectly.

He’s cooking on the stovetop, and Satan can faintly smell the scent of pancakes. A familiar apron is tied around Diavolo’s waist. It’s his favorite one; frills decorate the sides and a cute little cat face is embroidered on the front.  
Normally he would never let anyone touch it, but for Diavolo he can make an exception.

The prince is humming a tune. It’s the only sound in the room, save for the sizzling pancakes. That should have been the second sign. Neither one of them lives a life that’s quiet or peaceful. By now one of his brothers would have butted in, or Diavolo’s phone would have rung. But there is nothing. Only the two of them, and this picturesque morning.

The prince turns around to look at him.  
“Ah my dear, you’re awake!”

His smile is warm and welcoming. It matches the atmosphere perfectly. Satan is drawn towards him, but that is nothing new. He is by the prince’s side in an instant.

Diavolo gestures towards the stove, waving the spatula around. It flings batter everywhere.  
“I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast!”

A light chuckle escapes Satan’s lips as he peers over at Diavolo’s creation.  
“I am surprised. They aren’t even burnt.”

Diavolo has an over the top offended expression on his face as he smacks Satan’s shoulder with said spatula.  
“I’ll have you know that I’ve greatly improved.”

“I can tell. They smell wonderful.”

That was the third sign. The pancakes were perfect in every single way, and were even in the shape of a heart. But Satan’s hardly paying attention to them.  
Now that he’s in Diavolo’s personal space, he can properly appreciate the prince’s attire.  
Satan’s cat apron suits him, more so than anything else he’s ever worn. 

Diavolo seems to preen under his praise.  
“I prepare only the best for my boyfriend.”

_Boyfriend._  
That would be the fourth sign, but Satan had stopped paying attention to them a long time ago. Besides, for some reason that word makes something inside of him purr.  
He wants to hear it again.

His arms snake around Diavolo’s waist.  
“Oh, is it someone I know?”

“Perhaps. He kept me very busy last night.”

Yes, the marks on Diavolo’s neck give that away. And Satan immediately recognizes them as his own. His thumb lightly glosses over one of them, and Diavolo shivers.

“And this morning as well, or so I’ve heard.”

Diavolo’s voice comes out as a low purr.  
“My dear, is that a promise?”

Satan presses their bodies even closer together. Their mouths are less than a centimeter away.  
“The pancakes can wait. I want—“

Satan wakes up.  
And after a minute or two reality hits him.  
_Fuck._  
He dreamt about Diavolo again.  
And once again, nothing about it was platonic.  
_It had stopped right when things were getting good too._

Satan flushes, and smothers his face with his pillow. If he didn’t wake up, then would they have…  
The idea makes his face turn an even brighter shade of pink. But when that embarrassment fades, anger is quick to take its place.  
_It wasn’t real._

They didn’t even get to kiss.  
Five more minutes. That’s all he needed. If he could have slept in for **just five more minutes** —

There’s a part of him that wants to go back to sleep, that wants to try and pick up where they left off. But Satan knows that it’s a lost cause. If he could control his dreams after all, then Diavolo wouldn’t be in them.  
And if the prince did show up for whatever reason, then they would kiss. Over and over again. And Satan wouldn’t wake up feeling uncomfortable and stiff for the eleventh(?) night in a row.  
The cold showers are starting to drive him crazy. They are an awful way to start his morning.  
Satan looks at his alarm and groans.  
He’s got breakfast duty.  
A weather alert then pops up on his screen.  
And it’s snowing. Perfect.

~+~+

Satan growls and grumbles underneath his breath as he stirs the pancake batter. It’s cold, absolutely freezing, and the additional sweater that he shoved on isn’t doing anything.  
The only warm thing about his morning is the stove, and even then it’s not cooking these things quick enough.

Why do his brothers eat so much anyway? There's enough here to feed an entire army, and even then that will only satisfy Beel.  
He wants to leave, to curl up around the fireplace and read his favorite book. But instead he’s here, with nothing else to occupy his thoughts.  
Nothing except that dream. The domesticity of that entire situation… it’s something that Satan had never pictured himself experiencing. He’s the Avatar of Wrath after all, and nothing about him is soft or comforting.  
So who would want that?  
Who in their right mind would ever picture themselves living happily ever after with someone like him?  
No one would, and no one ever will.  
That is why Satan will spend the rest of his life alone, with only his brothers by his side.  
He knows that, and yet…  
...He can’t afford to think like this. This crush is making him forget his place.

The smell of burning pancakes interrupts his thoughts. Satan quickly flips them over, but the other side is completely charred.  
_They’re ruined._  
He sighs, and moves those mistakes over into the trash can. He still has plenty of batter left, so everything is fine. All he needs to do is focus on making breakfast, and then he can leave this morning behind him.

The final batch is almost completed by the time his brothers start piling into the kitchen.

Asmo looks over them and coos.  
“Aww, how cute! You made them with love.”

“What are you talking about?”  
They’re just pancakes, and Satan didn’t make them any differently then normal.  
... _Right?_

“Well, look at them! These are definitely good enough to post on Devilgram. Ooh, and I know just the filter—“  
Asmo continues to speak, but Satan tunes him out.

His brother isn’t making any sense. Love isn’t something that can be measured. It isn’t visible. So how could something be made with it?  
It’s an emotion that Satan still doesn’t quite understand, but there’s one thing that he knows for sure: It isn’t found in his pancakes, no matter what they look like. 

Yet, he’s still thrown for a loop when he finally gets a good look at them.  
The pancakes are in the shape of a heart.  
...That wasn’t supposed to happen. Satan’s own heart pounds, and images from last night's dream flicker through his head:  
Diavolo in his cat apron, Diavolo’s smile brightening up the room, Diavolo’s neck littered with faint purple marks, the look in his eyes when Satan suggested—

“Yo Satan, you alright?”

It’s Mammon, but for the first time in his entire life Satan is thankful for the interruption. It gives him time to take that dream and bury it away with the others.  
This crush doesn’t control him, and those dreams are completely meaningless.

“I’m fine. Here’s your pancakes.”

His irritation begins to grow. Every single heart on his brother's plate represents something he can never have, something that he will never get to feel.  
Satan is a monster. He’s incapable of love.  
The thought shouldn’t bother him, and yet he wants to grab every single pancake and rip them into pieces.  
_It’s not fair._

Why couldn’t he have been made differently?  
Why did he have to turn out like this?  
If he had been an angel like the others, if he was actually Lucifer’s brother instead, then things could be different. He would be more normal, less of a freak.  
And the dreams that he’s had about Diavolo wouldn’t feel so far out of his reach.  
...Maybe they could even be real.

But that’s not how things actually are, and that’s not who Satan is. His life is far more messy, and his emotions are more complex. Even though he has changed, that doesn’t change who he is, or the future that he is doomed to have.  
Yet Diavolo makes him want something different, something better. It’s a dangerous thought, a dream that Satan can’t afford to entertain. So he crushes it beneath his heel. Maybe this time it’ll leave him alone.

... _Made with love._ How stupid. Those pancakes were made with flour, eggs, baking soda, and water.  
_Nothing else._

Mammon interrupts his thoughts, and Satan can feel a tiny part of him snap. This morning has been awful, and his brother's newfound complaints certainly aren’t helping.

“Satan, you forgot to put syrup on em!”

_Oh, he wants syrup? I’ll give him some fucking syrup._

Satan turns towards Mammon, and plasters on a smile.  
“Of course, what was I thinking? Let me fix that.”

He then removes the lid, and empties the entire bottle on Mammon’s plate.  
The pancakes have been completely saturated, and are dangerously close to floating away.

Mammon shrieks, and swats the now empty bottle out of Satan’s hand. It clatters onto the floor, but it’s too late. The damage has already been done.  
Mammon’s pancakes are ruined.  
“Oi, what did you do that for?!”

Satan growls, and resists the urge to stab Mammon with a fork.  
“Just shut up and eat it.”

“No, I ain’t eating this after you—“

But Lucifer refuses to hear Mammon out. He takes a sip of his coffee, newspaper in hand.  
“Mammon, we don’t waste food in this house, remember?”

“Beel can eat it then!”

Lucifer casually flips to another page.  
“I suppose. But your little brother made them with love, didn’t he? It seems like such a shame to give them away to someone else.”

_Just because they’re in the shape of a heart doesn’t mean that they’re made with love!!_

Beel frowns, and one of his hands starts reaching towards Mammon’s plate.  
“...So do you want it, or—“

“Fine! I’ll eat ‘em!”

Mammon then proceeds to try and pick up a piece of it with his fork, but it slides right off and falls back on the plate. He grumbles as he snatches a spoon, and gets to work devouring his breakfast.

Once everyone has finally had their fill, Satan sits down to eat his own. He peers down at the stack of pancakes in front of him. They’re a perfect replica of what he saw in his dream. But the most important part of it is missing.  
...Not that it matters.

Satan takes a bite.  
They’re good.  
_Of course they are. He made them._  
Still, if he closes his eyes, he can pretend they were made by someone else. And that makes his morning a little bit warmer.

~+~+

Several hours later he’s crouched behind a bush with Belphegor. His brother raises his brow.  
“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Of course. How could it possibly fail?”

“He could go out a different way, for one thing.”

Satan snorts.  
“No. Lucifer always sticks to his routine. He’ll be here. Are all of the enchanted snowmen ready?”

“Yeah. They should all target him the moment he leaves the building.”

“And he’ll look like an idiot once he’s pelted with snowballs.”

Belphegor chuckles.  
“It will make his good coat all wet too.”

Satan laughs along with him.  
“Exactly!”

The two of them immediately go quiet once they see the door move, and once Lucifer steps outside. But the snowmen aren’t reacting at all. They don’t even twitch.

Satan frowns. He could have sworn that he enchanted them. Belphegor even helped. So what’s going on?

Lucifer’s voice rings out, and the shrub that they were hiding behind turns to ash.  
“I see. So that’s the game that the two of you wanted to play.”

_Shit. They’ve been found out._

Lucifer snaps his fingers, and the snowman's eyes glow red as they begin to advance towards them.  
_This isn’t good._  
He can feel Belphegor tense beside him.

A sadistic grin paints Lucifer’s face.  
“If the two of you wanted a snowball fight, all you had to do was ask.”

A massive ball of snow begins to form above Lucifer’s hand, and it’s joined by rocks and other forms of debris. It feels wrong to call that thing a snowball, especially since it has the ability to give him a concussion. The snowmen are starting to take aim.

Belphegor grabs his arm. They turn to one another, and nod. Clearly, there’s only one thing left to do.  
“Run!”

The two of them take off in different directions, and Lucifer attacks.

Satan can hear the crunching of snow behind him as he runs. And with one look, he sees his pursuers. It’s his snowman army, but now they’ve grown legs.  
_Of course they have. Lucifer has to one up him on everything he does._

__

They chuck snowballs at him, and Satan frowns. They were **his** creation. **He** spent hours making them. And Lucifer doesn’t get to take credit for this. He doesn’t get to turn them into his little pawns.

__

So Satan stops running. He turns around and faces his newfound adversaries. If it’s a fight they want, then that’s what they’re going to get.  
Because unfortunately for them, they’ve challenged the Avatar of Wrath. And Satan intends to show no mercy.  
Not after the morning he’s had.

__

They fall like dominoes. One after another, Satan tears into their snowy flesh. They pelt him with snowballs, but it’s a useless endeavor. His rage keeps him warm. And with every snowman that he kills, Satan can start to feel his tension from earlier melt away.  
_This is fun._  
Satan can’t remember the last time that he went _feral_ , that he shed every single pretense inside of him and just let loose.  
He didn’t realize that he was so bottled up. And as more and more of them turn into mush, Satan can feel his grin get wider and wider.  
Another one falls, and Satan laughs.

__

He can’t even feel the cold anymore.  
His fury is an inferno, but he’s enjoying himself too much for it to burn for long.  
It begins to morph into something else. Something brighter.  
_Joy._

__

There’s only one snowman left now, and it has the audacity to run. And as the distance between them grows, so does the anticipation within him.  
The thrill of the hunt is also something that he had missed. Books and cats are great, and Satan enjoys them immensely, but this…  
This makes him feel _alive_.  
Satan chases after it.

__

He thought that he was all alone, but as he approaches his target, he sees someone else. Another demon stands in his way, one in a very familiar red jacket.  
_Is that Diavolo?_  
And once Satan realizes what’s going to happen, he panics. Because of his current momentum he won’t be able to stop in time. They’re going to crash into each other, and it won’t be pretty. He tries to give the prince a warning, but the most he can shout is “ **Move!** ” before their bodies collide.

__

Satan slams into him, the impact of it causing Diavolo to topple over and hit a tree. The prince’s head smacks against the trunk, splitting the tree in half. Their bodies are pressed up against one another. An avalanche of snow falls on top of Satan’s back, pushing them closer together.  
_Cold!_  
Satan hisses. He should have worn a thicker jacket, or at least some gloves. He’s freezing.

__

Diavolo is his only source of warmth. His breath fans over Satan’s face.  
“Are you alright?”

__

“F-Fine. You?”

__

“I’m good. I have a rather thick skull after all.”

__

The snow’s starting to seep through his sweater. And although he won’t die from this, it’s incredibly unpleasant. He should move. The position they’re in is very promiscuous. Satan knows that, and yet…  
_Diavolo is warm._

__

All thoughts of getting up vanish when he feels Diavolo brush the snow off of his back. His hands aren’t even cold. It’s as if the prince is nothing more than a gigantic space heater. With every touch, with every breath of theirs that intermingles, Satan can feel the chill melt away.

__

He’s never been this close to Diavolo’s normal form before. His hair isn’t as bright, and his skin is a bit paler, but he’s still beautiful. The eyes are the same. And they draw Satan in, just like they have countless times before. 

__

Diavolo’s breath hitches, and the hand from before pushes Satan closer towards him. They are close now, impossibly so. It won’t be long until they finally—

__

Diavolo turns his head aside, and lets out a tiny kitten like sneeze. Satan can’t stop himself from giggling. It’s funny, the mood has been completely ruined now. That should make him upset. But instead he feels happy and warm.  
And the pout that appears on Diavolo’s face makes him giggle even more.  
_He truly is adorable._

__

The two of them get up. It’s an easy task, now that most of the snow has been brushed aside. And thankfully Diavolo was telling the truth. The prince doesn’t appear to be harmed in any way.

__

Satan dusts the remaining bits of snow off of himself and frowns. This would be the moment where they part ways, but he finds himself lingering. For some reason he feels awkward, anxious. Diavolo politely waves goodbye, and Satan wants to reach out and stop him. _He doesn’t want him to leave._

__

But he has no plan. Satan doesn’t even know what they would do or say after this. He hears Diavolo’s footsteps crunch in the snow as he walks away, and all of a sudden none of that matters.  
His heart speaks for him, and it says the first thing that enters his head.

__

“So, do you come here often?”

__

And as soon as that question leaves his lips, Satan wants to smack himself.  
_Dumbass, of course he comes here often, they’re right outside his fucking school!_

__

Diavolo snorts, and does that _laugh_. That undignified noise that makes Satan go weak in the knees.  
He has no right to look that amused, not when Satan wants to go crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment.  
But eventually the prince’s laughter dies down, and all that’s left is an incredibly fond smile.  
“I’d say so.”

__

That look Diavolo is giving him only makes him feel even more flustered. It’s as if the prince found that whole thing to be endearing instead of incredibly awkward.  
Satan doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, or why he’s acting like this. He’s spoken with Diavolo before, so where is this nervousness coming from?  
What is he feeling so anxious about?

__

Still, Satan shoves all of those feelings aside and tries to salvage the situation.  
“Right. Obviously you do. You work here.”

__

“I’m actually working right now.”

__

“...Really?”

__

Diavolo nods.  
“There are several runic wards placed around campus, and every now and then I have to reapply them.  
The safety of everyone here is very important after all.  
I was actually going to stop by and check up on the last one before I ran into you.”

__

A pause. There’s still a hint of amusement in Diavolo’s gaze.  
“...Or I suppose you ran into me.”

__

Satan has heard about the wards before. He tried studying them once; but they were incredibly complex, and there was barely any research on them. So he had quickly moved onto something else. Still, he had never pictured that one man was behind it all. A group made far more sense.  
Yet, Diavolo is the only other person here.  
There is no one else with him.  
Normally Satan would brush it aside and deem it all impossible, but the prince has never failed to take him by surprise.  
“You’re the one who did that? I thought it was a team.”

__

Diavolo grins.  
“Nope! Just me.”

__

_Just him._  
For thousands upon thousands of years, Diavolo had protected this school all on his own.  
And something about that just seems wrong.  
The prince is impossibly strong, Satan knows that. No one can surpass Diavolo in terms of raw magical power. So it won’t drain him, but even then...  
It’s a lot to do for one person.

__

“Do you need any help?”

__

Diavolo’s eyes light up.  
“if you don’t mind, some assistance is always appreciated!”

__

And that’s how Satan finds himself walking by Diavolo’s side. It’s completely silent, save for the crunching of snow. The last time they hung out was when…  
_Ah. That’s why things feel so awkward._  
The incident… it seems like it was such a long time ago. Yet he can recall it all vividly. Things with Diavolo seemed so simple and easy then, in comparison to how they are now.  
Because now things are real, and there is no fake relationship to hide behind. Instead of smiles and laughter, there is a tension there that Satan doesn’t know how to break.  
How did they do it before?

__

Things aren’t supposed to be like this. An oppressive and awkward air doesn’t suit them. They just need to interact with each other like normal people, in a completely platonic manner.  
Because that’s what they are, just two acquaintances going on a stroll together.

__

Satan closes his eyes, and pictures Barbatos or Solomon instead. Let’s see, if they were here, what would he say?

__

_How have you been?_  
No, that’s too simple. The conversation would die off straight away, and even now it’s obvious that Diavolo’s fine.

__

_What have you been doing lately?_  
Satan already knows the answer to that. It’s paperwork. Outside of their shenanigans, that’s all Diavolo does.

__

_So, what do you think about the weather? It’s rather chilly._  
Did he seriously just consider bringing up the fucking weather?  
While they’re outside?  
**While it’s snowing?**

__

This is stupid. Talking with Diavolo isn’t hard. Satan could mention anything. He could talk about cats, or tell him a lame joke, or—  
“Do you want to hold hands?”

__

_...What is wrong with him?!  
Is he fucking possessed?!_  
How did he somehow manage to make the situation even _more_ awkward?

__

“F-Forget it! I don’t know why I even—“

__

He feels one of Diavolo’s hands intertwine with his own.  
“I’d love to.”

__

Satan's heart skips a beat. Those butterflies are swirling up a storm, but for some reason holding hands with Diavolo’s starts to calm them. It’s... nice. He had missed doing things like this. 

__

His touch is warmer than Satan remembered. It makes his entire body melt into a pile of goo. And given the snowflakes that are falling down from the sky, it’s incredibly appreciated.  
Yes, the main reason he’s doing this is for the body heat. They’re sharing warmth in a completely platonic manner.

__

They continue walking together, hand in hand. Satan keeps his mouth shut in fear of even more awkward questions spilling out. That lasts for about five seconds.  
“So, are you single?”  
_Someone fucking kill him._

__

Diavolo tries to smother his laughter behind a cough. It doesn’t work  
“I am, yes. In fact, I’ve never truly been in a relationship before.”

__

“Right. It’s the same with me.”

__

They’ve been over this before, haven’t they? Not this exact conversation, but…  
This is a topic that they’ve already talked about, something that they’ve already known.  
So why does Satan feel like he’s back at square one?

__

He feels Diavolo squeeze his hand.  
“Is something wrong?”

__

_Well, I can barely talk to you without sounding like an idiot. I’ve been dreaming about you for over a week,  
and my stupid heart won’t shut up. So yeah, I'd say something's wrong._  
But he can’t exactly tell Diavolo that, and he’s afraid of what would actually come out of his mouth if he tried.  
...He’s usually more charismatic. He can smooth talk his way out of most situations, except for this one apparently.

__

Satan sighs.  
“I just… I don’t know why I’m acting like this today. It’s embarrassing.”

__

Diavolo snickers.  
“I think it’s cute.”

__

_Cute._  
Satan’s face turns an even brighter shade of pink.  
“You're enjoying this… aren’t you?”

__

“Immensely.”

__

At least it makes the prince happy. So there’s a silver lining in Satan making a complete fool out of himself.  
“Fine, whatever. Let’s hurry up and get started on fixing these wards.”

__

~+~+

__

They arrive at the outskirts of the campus. And there, on an old stone wall, is a complicated network of runes.

__

There are a few that Satan recognizes.  
_Keep. Out. Danger._  
It's unsurprising, given what they’re for. But those runes are only part of an entire system, and as a whole it’s a complete mismash of symbols that would take eons to decipher. 

__

“You really did all of this yourself?”

__

Diavolo nods.  
“Yes. The runes and spells I needed in order to protect RAD didn’t exist, so I had to make my own.”

__

He gestures towards a symbol on the upper right corner.  
“This is the beginning of what I like to call the eye. It sees into everyone’s innermost desires, and determines whether or not they mean the students any harm.”

__

“If they have any ill intentions, then the fangs will react.”  
He gestures towards the lower right and left corners.  
“These are the fangs. They snap those thoughts away, causing the intruder to lose all interest in our school.”

__

“The upper left corner is a part of the ear. It makes them forget RAD’s location, and the appearance of any of its students. It also informs me of who the intruder is.”

__

He then places his hand on the center.  
“This is the nose, and it is the framework for everything. This is what I constantly have to reapply, otherwise everything falls apart. It is the battery, so to speak.”

__

Satan is mesmerized. Not by Diavolo’s work, although it is amazing, but by the prince himself.  
“You’re incredible.”

__

The fact that he came up with it, that he was intelligent enough to create his own runes; something that is essentially equivalent to creating an entire language—

__

He truly is astounding. Both in power, and in cleverness. 

__

Diavolo’s face flushes.  
“Thank you, but it really is nothing. Anyone could have done it with enough time.”

__

“You’re wrong.” Satan steps closer, and tilts Diavolo’s chin towards him. “This is something that only you could do.”

__

“...I suppose you’re right.”

__

Yes, that’s the answer he’s looking for. The prince can be strangely modest at times, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Satan refuses to allow it right now.  
Diavolo is special. It’s a shame that the man himself doesn’t believe it.

__

But Satan knows that believing in yourself isn’t easy, so he doesn’t press the subject. Instead, he drops his hand and offers him a polite smile.  
“What can I do to help?”

__

Diavolo visibly begins to relax.  
“I can apply the ward, but doing so takes a lot of my energy and concentration. If you would be willing to lend me some of your magic, then that would be greatly appreciated.”

__

_An easy enough task._  
“Of course. Let me know when you're ready.”

__

Diavolo closes his eyes, and after a moment or two he opens them. They glow.  
His voice is deep, and carries the weight of their task.  
“You may begin.”

__

Satan closes his eyes, and lets his magic flow out of him and into Diavolo. After a couple of seconds they meet, and the moment their magic brushes up against one another they gasp. It’s an intimate act. A demon's magic is a part of their soul, and isn’t something that’s shared. You would only do that with someone you trusted.  
Someone you cared for.  
Someone you—

__

“Breathe Satan. If this is too much, then we can stop.”

__

_No. This feels amazing._  
Instead of giving Diavolo a verbal answer, his magic intertwines itself around Diavolo’s and clings. He can feel the prince’s entire soul shutter.

__

“O-Okay. I’m going to begin now. Just continue channeling your magic into me, and allow me to move it into the ward.”

__

Satan hums, and uses his magic to stroke Diavolo’s, as if he was petting some sort of cat. The prince startles, but then lets out what can only be described as a purr.  
And Satan finds himself purring in return.  
_This is nice._

__

He lets Diavolo shift and move their magic as he pleases, but Satan makes sure to have them brush up against each other as often as he can.  
Each and every touch is electric, and the sheer intensity of it brings Satan to his knees. And this is only using their magic, if they were to physically touch as well…  
Satan gets an idea, but Diavolo’s magic restrains him before he can move.

__

“You don’t want to do that my dear. We are already towing the line.”

__

“The line between what?”

__

Between being friendly and straight up flirting?  
Between platonic feelings and romantic ones?  
Between what is right and wrong?  
Between friends and—

__

“There are ancient Magic’s that involve the merging of two souls. If our skin were to make contact right now…”

__

Satan’s eyes widen.  
“We’d merge?”

__

Diavolo nods.  
“Our souls, our essence, would become permanently intertwined. The closest equivalent is marriage, but even then this is something far more intimate.”

__

_Ah._ Satan can feel himself flush at the implication of what he was trying to do, of what he had almost done. He normally thinks things out first, but there's nothing about Diavolo that makes him almost lose his self control.  
His emotions are supposed to be ignored for a reason.  
Thankfully the prince caught onto it. Marrying Diavolo would be… terrible.

__

“Right. So no touching.”

__

The prince hums, and seems to give it some thought.  
“Not physically. But this—”

__

His magic softly brushes up against Satan’s.

__

“—this is fine.”

__

Satan grins.  
“Good. I like feeling you.”

__

A pause, and then he hears Diavolo begin to snicker.

__

Satan then registers another meaning for his words, one that makes him blush.  
“Wait no, that came out wrong.”

__

“Oh?”

__

“I didn’t— stop laughing!”

__

Diavolo’s amusement only grows.  
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. You bring me too much joy.”

__

“...I’m going to be quiet now.”

__

Another chuckle, and then Diavolo gets back to work.

__

Their magic is simply snuggled up to one another now. It’s surprisingly chaste. The contact isn’t as jarring, and the electricity from before has simmered down. Instead it’s warm, comforting, like being wrapped up in a thick blanket on a cold night.  
Satan nuzzles into that warmth, and lets out a yawn.

__

“Tired?”

__

Satan nods.  
“I haven’t been getting much sleep lately.”

__

“Then rest. By the time you wake up I should be done.”

__

_That sounds like a good idea._  
He clings to Diavolo’s magic as if it were a stuffed animal, and drifts off to sleep. It’s strange. Even though he’s lying down in the snow, he doesn’t feel the cold. Satan can’t help but wonder how much of it is due to the prince's magic, and how much of it is due to that warm feeling in his chest.  
Who knew that crushes could be this useful?  
But before he falls asleep, there’s one thought that enters his head:  
He’ll have to do this with Diavolo again next year.

__

~+~+

__

Eventually Satan is nudged awake. He lazily stretches out his body and yawns.  
“How long was I asleep for?”

__

“Several hours. You looked like you needed it.”

__

He really did. Diavolo didn’t appear in his dreams at all, and it feels like it's been ages since he’s woken up like this. There’s no discomfort, and no anger. Only Diavolo, and the snow that continues to softly fall from the sky.

__

There’s no sun here, but with Diavolo’s grin, he doesn’t need one.  
“I did. Thank you.”

__

Diavolo helps him up, and Satan looks over their wards from earlier. They glow a brighter shade of red, and if he looks closer he can even see a hint of green. The magic that they give off is definitely stronger than what it was before.

__

“So you’ve finished reapplying them?”

__

Diavolo flashes him a brilliant grin.  
“Yes! And thanks to your help it took no time at all!”

__

That’s strange. Satan remembers it being a rather long process. His nap from earlier must have skewed his perception of time. Diavolo would ever want to be intimate with him, especially for that long.  
He’s Satan after all.

__

“Now that we’re done, is there anything that you want to do right now? We could still hangout for a bit.”  
Diavolo says it casually, but there’s an underlying desperation to his words. He clearly doesn’t want to leave, not yet at least.

__

Satan shares the sentiment. And with the large amount of snow that blankets the ground, there are still plenty of things that they could do.  
“There are a couple of things I suppose, and it would be nice if I could do you with them.”

__

Diavolo snorts and wiggles his brows, and then Satan realizes his mistake.

__

“Fuck wait.”

__

He takes a deep breath, and quickly pieces together what he was actually trying to say.  
“Do them with you. That’s what I meant.”

__

“Oh?”

__

Today has been a train wreck. Even after his nap, he’s still like _this_.  
“Please don’t leave the conversation up to me.”

__

Diavolo softly pats him on the shoulder.  
“My dear, we all feel a little awkward sometimes. It’s okay. Tell me what you want.”

__

_What I want._  
Satan wants a lot of things, and most of it confuses him. _But right now..._  
“...Do you want to build a snowman?”

__

__

###### Step 1: The body

__

Satan begins outlining everything in the snow. Using a stick, he gestures towards each and every step. Diavolo has never built one before, and Satan intends to run him through the entire process.

__

“We just need to roll out three balls of snow, and stack them from largest to smallest.”

__

Diavolo’s brows are furrowed in thought.  
“How big do they need to be?”

__

A valid question, but Satan doesn’t have a specific size in mind.  
“As big as you want, but remember that we still need to reach the top of it.”

__

“No problem!”

__

The prince then races around, and gathers a gigantic bundle of snow in his arms. Satan can barely see his head.  
_It’s amazing that he can carry all of that._  
“Remember, we need to round them out! No sticks or twigs!”

__

He can’t see Diavolo’s pout, but he can hear it.  
“Aww, that gives it character!”

__

Satan snorts.  
“That’s what the next steps are for. Right now we’re just building the base.”

__

“Hmm, in that case, would you mind coming a bit closer? I might need some help picking them out.”

__

_Ah, that makes sense._ Diavolo is holding far too much after all. It’s no wonder that he needs help.  
“Sure, I’d be glad to.”

__

He walks over to stand in front of Diavolo, and begins picking out bits of twigs and a few stray rocks. He can’t even see the prince’s face. If he could, then he probably would have seen this coming.

__

“Gotcha!”  
Diavolo’s sneak attack takes him by surprise. The prince shoves the entire bundle of snow into Satan’s chest, and Satan topples over with a shout. It lands on top of him, and there’s enough of it to almost cover his entire body. Diavolo perches himself on top of the pile and laughs.  
“What do you think of my new throne?”

__

Satan smirks, and then bursts through the snow. He pounces on top of Diavolo, knocking him to the floor. The position they’re in is a familiar one.  
“I think mine is better.”

__

Diavolo grins, and tackles Satan in return.  
The two of them roll around in the snow for hours, but they do eventually find enough time to build a body for Mr. Snowman.

__

__

###### Step 2: The arms

__

Satan gestures towards the stick in his hand.  
“The arms are made out of sticks. Ideally they’d be long enough to both stick out of Mr. Snowman and not fall out of him.  
They would also need to be thick, otherwise they’ll break when we try putting them in.”

__

He pauses, and quickly begins drawing out a map.  
“I think I saw some several yards back…”

__

Diavolo interrupts him.  
“No, wait! I have a more efficient idea.”

__

The prince then picks up a gigantic log, and shoves it through the side of the snowman.  
He looks incredibly proud.  
“Now both arms are done!”

__

Mr. Snowman doesn’t fall apart, but the arms are definitely too thick. If Levi was here, he would say that it was ‘T-posing’

__

It looks completely ridiculous, but…  
Satan loves it already.  
And he loves Diavolo’s beaming smile even more.

__

__

###### Step 3: The face

__

“To make the face we’ll need something hard and round. Buttons are fairly common, but rocks will also do.”

__

“So we can just use these then?”  
Diavolo points at the small pile of rocks that they’ve collected.

__

Satan nods.  
“Yes. This part is the easiest.”

__

Diavolo’s brows furrow.  
“So you say. But I can’t decide what expression to give him.”

__

... _Is there more than one?_  
“Snowmen typically smile.”

__

“But he isn’t like most snowmen. He’s a fearsome warrior!”

__

Satan snorts.  
_Is he now?_  
“And what is he fighting off?”

__

“All of the other snowmen of course! He’s trying to win the affection of the snow princess.”

__

An interesting story. Satan already wants to hear the rest of it.  
“Who is the princess supposed to be?”

__

“You.”

__

_Wait._  
“What?”

__

A snowball then hits him in the face, and Diavolo laughs.  
_Oh, it’s on._  
Satan creates a few of his own, and their war quickly begins.

__

Somewhere, in the middle of their laughter, they do eventually manage to finish Mr. Snowman’s face. And although he didn’t get harmed, he did appear to lose several pounds.

__

__

###### Step 4: The hat

__

“The hat is the final step. Normally you would just use one that’s already made, but I have an idea.”

__

Diavolo looks excited already.  
“I’m all ears.”

__

“We’re going to improvise.”  
Satan then gestures towards some ivy growing along a nearby tree.  
“If you can get me several yards of that, I can weave us up one.”

__

“Right away!”

__

The prince quickly vanishes, and in one fell swoop he’s gathered almost all of it in his arms. It’s more than what they need.

__

Satan raises his brow.  
“I see you got some extra.”

__

_Some_ is definitely an understatement, but clearly Diavolo has an idea of his own.

__

He sounds almost sheepish.  
“I wanted to try too, if that’s okay.”

__

A gentle smile makes its way across Satan’s face.  
“Of course. I’ll teach you.”

__

__

An hour later Diavolo pouts at his creation.  
“Mine looks a bit misshapen.”

__

It is a bit lopsided, and is more of an oval then a circle, but that doesn’t make it bad. Not at all.  
“It looks perfect, especially considering it’s your first time making it.”

__

The craftsmanship is good. Diavolo catches onto things fairly quickly; it’s one of the many reasons Satan enjoys teaching him.

__

The prince's eyes light up at his compliment.  
“You like it?”

__

And then, Satan’s body does the strangest thing. Before he can even think about it, his hand reaches out and ruffles Diavolo’s hair.  
_Why did he do that?_  
...It doesn’t matter. Diavolo asked him a question, so he’s going to answer it.  
“I do.”

__

“Then it’s yours.”

__

He places the ivy crown on top of Satan’s head. And even though it’s misshapen, it’s a perfect fit.

__

Once Satan finishes making his own crown, the two of them walk over to Mr. Snowman. All he has to do is place it on the snowman’s head, and then they’ll be done.

__

Satan pauses.  
The crown that he holds in his hands is nice, but it would look better on someone else. Someone who has already given him a gift.  
“You know, I don’t think he needs a hat.”

__

Diavolo nods.  
“I agree. He looks fine the way it is.”

__

Yes, their snowman is already complete, so there’s no harm in giving it away. Diavolo deserves it after all, especially with how much he’s brightened Satan’s day.

__

“Then I suppose I’ll have you take this off my hands.”

__

The prince has already caught onto what Satan is trying to do. He grins, and then kneels before him. Satan places it on top of his head. Diavolo looks up at him, and their eyes meet.

__

Satan can’t see his own face, but he knows that they’re wearing matching grins.  
Well, that and something else.

__

Diavolo jumps up, and there’s a look of pure and utter joy on his face.  
“We match!”

__

“We do.”

__

The crown suits him. It’s a perfect fit, and doesn’t fall off no matter how much the prince moves. The snow continues to fall, and the snowflakes hang and glisten in Diavolo’s hair like gems. A few fall on top of Satan’s handmade crown, and the sight almost blows him away.  
Diavolo looks the very picture of royalty; he holds an ethereal beauty that Satan has only ever read about in storybooks.

__

And they match. They are a pair, two parts of a whole.

__

The two of them look at each other and pause. Neither one of them seems to know what to do, or where to go from here.

__

Diavolo speaks up.  
“...I should leave. I have a speech I need to prepare for tomorrow.”

__

That’s right. There’s an assembly tomorrow morning, and that’s not even counting their student council meeting.

__

Satan nods.  
“Of course. Go ahead.”

__

But Diavolo doesn’t leave, not yet. Instead he holds out his hand, and after a moment or two Satan shakes it.  
... _Is that what Diavolo was going for?  
Or did he want to hold hands?_  
Fuck was he supposed to escort Diavolo back?  
_Wait, no._ That’s only stuff that you would do on a date. And Satan and Diavolo **_aren’t dating_**.  
If only his heart could get the memo.

__

Their hands pull away. The air is awkward, but Diavolo takes it all in stride.  
“It was nice getting to hang out with you today. I enjoyed it.”

__

A soft smile graces Satan’s face. Despite how embarrassing this entire day has been, he agrees.  
“Me too. It was fun.”

__

There’s another pause, and neither one of them moves. The two of them linger, as if they don’t want this moment to end.

__

But eventually Diavolo breaks it. The prince has places to be after all.  
“Right! I’ll go now.”

__

Satan nods.  
And for some strange reason, his eyes remain glued to Diavolo’s retreating figure as he idly touches the crown on his head.  
His heart feels full. 

__

Eventually he heads back to the House of Lamentation. There isn’t much of the day left, but Satan still has enough time to study and do a bit of light reading. And that crown remains on his head the entire time.  
He wasn’t lying when he complimented Diavolo earlier. He likes it, although he can’t say why.  
Perhaps the answer will come to him in his dreams

__

~+~+

__

The prince growls as his teeth lightly scrape against Satan’s neck.  
“ **Mine.** ”

__

His hands make their way down Satan’s body and stop at his tail. He winds it around one of his hands and _tugs._ Pleasure shoots down Satan’s spine. He gasps as his claws make jagged lines along Diavolo’s back.

__

Diavolo lets out a hum of approval.  
“ **You’re mine.** ”

__

The desire, it’s almost too much for him to handle. But it isn’t enough. Satan wants more of him, more of this.  
“Fuck, Dia I—“

__

“Ah, I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.”  
Diavolo nips his ear, and Satan shivers.

__

“Sorry, I’ll be good.”

__

A low chuckle escapes the prince’s lips.  
“I know you will. You are always incredibly good to me.”

__

Diavolo’s other hand travels in between Satan’s legs.  
More pleasure. Despite his promise, Satan can’t stop himself from whining.  
“Don’t stop! Please, I—“

__

He shudders, and a moan interrupts his request. He almost doesn’t recognize it as his.  
_No. He has to be good, right?_  
Satan shoves his hand over his mouth, and attempts to smother all of the sounds that are threatening to spill out of him. He’s trembling. Nothing he’s felt could ever compare to _this_.

__

Diavolo lightly takes his hand and pulls it away. There’s no filter now. Explicit words and sounds escape his lips without his control. Satan tries to muffle them, but both of his hands are tied to the bed frame. _How strange._ He doesn’t remember when _that_ happened, but Diavolo’s tongue starts tracing patterns along his thigh, and he can’t bring himself to care.

__

_More. He needs more._

__

His arms tug at the restraints. They loosen a bit, but don’t break. Diavolo tsks, and then his teeth replace his tongue. Satan lets out a startled gasp when he feels Diavolo’s fangs sink into him. It quickly morphs into a whine once the prince licks the wound.  
_He left a mark._

__

Diavolo looks over his handiwork and lets out a pleased hum.  
“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of having you like this.”

__

More pleasure. More movement.  
Another gasp. Another moan.

__

“I know I told you to be quiet, but every sound you make is music to my ears.”

__

Diavolo tugs on his tail again, this time with more force. Satan’s mind goes completely blank. Words, thoughts, they all fail him. There is only this pleasure, this desire that has completely and utterly consumed him. 

__

A hand tenderly strokes his cheek.  
“So I will make an exception, just this once. Now go on my dear, **scream for me**.”

__

There’s a loud thud, and Satan’s eyes snap open. Off in the distance he can hear Asmo and Mammon bickering. The room he’s in is most definitely his own. Books are littered everywhere, and the bed is far too small to fit more than one person.

__

_It was just a dream...  
…  
…!_  
And then Satan’s problem makes itself known to him. The soft pants that are leaving his lips, that uncomfortable feeling that can only be fixed by—  
... _It’s all Diavolo’s fault!_  
If he didn't walk around being annoyingly pretty, if he didn’t send him sweet and endearing text messages every day, then Satan would have dreamt about something else.  
But instead he’s haunted by images of them together, by a future he’s never going to have.  
It’s frustrating, how badly he wants this.  
Satan growls. Compared to all of the other dreams he’s had, this one is definitely the worst. It leaves him craving more. More touching. More teasing. A kiss.

__

_Even in his dreams, their lips never get to meet._

__

But that’s fine. He’s ignoring this crush after all. And that includes his current… problem. It’s nothing a cold shower can’t fix.

__

Yet he _aches_. In his dream earlier there was someone there to appease him; someone who made him feel more pleasure then he ever had in his entire life. If he was here, then this problem wouldn’t even exist.

__

Satan lets out a choked gasp as he imagines Diavolo’s hands roaming over his body. In his mind they pick up where they left off, and the prince’s mouth finally—  
_No! He’s not going there. He’s not doing this!_

__

A chuckle. A grin. A command.  
“ **Scream for me.** ”

__

_Damn it all!_  
Satan punches his bed and screams into his pillow.  
His mind won’t shut up, and tries to fill the space that his unfinished dream left behind.  
Lips caressing his skin.  
Another mark on his thigh.  
Affectionate words whispered in his ear.  
Warmth wrapped around his—

__

Satan snarls and slams his fist down on his mattress.  
There’s a loud crack, and he feels his bed jolt.  
...He’s going to need a new bed frame.

__

And then, with the worst timing imaginable, Diavolo texts him.

__

> Diavolo: Good morning!

__

There’s only one response in Satan’s head, only one way to accurately summarize what Diavolo makes him feel.

__

> Satan: 😡😡😡😡

__

Satan then tosses his DDD aside, and readies himself for yet another cold start to his morning.

__

~+~+

__

Unfortunately the shower does little to cool his anger, or to remove the tension from his shoulders. This is ridiculous. These dreams are getting incredibly out of hand. 

__

Satan sighs, and picks up his phone. He received several more texts while he was away.

__

> Diavolo: Did I do something wrong?
> 
> __
> 
> Diavolo: Satan?

__

What is he supposed to say?

__

_I’ve been dreaming about you for the past several weeks and it’s been driving me crazy?_

__

_I’m pissed because you aren’t pounding me into the mattress right now?_

__

_I’ve forgotten what warm showers feel like, and that’s all your fault. So why don’t you do something about it and—_

__

Deep breaths. Ignoring this crush is trickier than he thought. These dreams, and the fantasy’s that they’ve created, are incredibly distracting.  
Satan groans.  
It’s not Diavolo’s fault that he can’t handle it. Whatever is going on, the prince isn’t to blame. Even if he’s attractive, even if his flirtatious jokes make Satan laugh, he has been nothing but chaste the entire time.  
Satan is the one making things weird, he just doesn’t know why.

__

He looks at their text messages again. The tenseness, the irritability from his cold shower, is still there. But he should have controlled it better. Perhaps he just needs to take a breather instead; maybe he can read a good book before class, or pet one of the stray cats outside.

__

Either way he shouldn’t have taken it out on Diavolo. Whatever is going on between them is… precious in a way. And Satan refuses to let a couple of explicit dreams ruin it.  
So he texts Diavolo back.

__

> Satan: Sorry, woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.
> 
> __
> 
> Diavolo: I’m sorry that you didn’t have a good morning my dear.  
>  Is there anything I can do to make it better?

__

A thousand scenarios flicker through Satan's mind. Some are based off of previous dreams, and others are entirely new. They do nothing to ease the tension within him, or to fan his blushing face. But Satan doesn’t give in, instead he shoves those feelings into a box. He’ll deal with them later. Preferably never.

__

> Satan: No. Just keep Lucifer off of me during this morning's meeting. 
> 
> __
> 
> Diavolo: Of course! The only guy on you will be me!
> 
> __
> 
> Satan: Phrasing.
> 
> __
> 
> Diavolo: I know. I said it that way on purpose. 😘

__

... _Today is going to be an incredibly long day._

__

~+~+

__

At the beginning of each semester there’s a mandatory assembly that everyone’s forced to attend. Thankfully they’re always incredibly short. Diavolo was also a man of his word, and kept Lucifer distracted during the student council meeting. But Satan is still in a sour mood. For some reason that dream remains stuck in his head, and seeing Diavolo in person isn’t helping anything.

__

It felt so real. All of the dreams involving him did. And if the next one is worse…  
They have to stop. For Satan’s own sanity.  
He frowns, and tries to come up with a plan. His first class of the day is alchemy, and there are plenty of potions that allow you to have a dreamless sleep. They are all easy enough to make, but getting the components for it is the tricky part. Especially since most of them would involve taking something off of Diavolo’s person. And if they were to touch…  
Satan shivers.  
_He’s acting weird again, isn’t he?_

__

A whistle echoes across the hall, and everyone quiets down. Diavolo stands center stage. And although he has no microphone, his voice rings out loud and clear.  
“Today marks the beginning of classes, and I wanted to congratulate everyone for doing a wonderful job last semester. Our grades were the highest that they’ve ever been!”

__

He sounds excited, proud.  
“So this semester I don’t want a single one of you to give up! And as a reminder, I hope each and every one of you will accept this ribbon.”

__

Said ribbon magically appears in front of them. It’s a simple thing, just a red bit of cloth with the words ‘ _You can do it!_ ’ stitched in yellow thread.  
“Remember, you can accomplish anything as long as you never stop trying! I believe in every single one of you!”

__

It isn’t the first time that Diavolo’s given a speech like that, but the warmth that it creates is incredibly new. He can do this, can’t he?  
There’s nothing that Satan can’t accomplish, and that includes getting over a crush. Besides, Diavolo believes in him. So how could he fail?

__

~+~+

__

Their first assignment in Alchemy IV is a review. The teacher pairs them off in groups of two, and they get to make the potion of their choice. If it comes out perfectly fine, then they get to keep it.

__

It’s the exact opportunity that Satan was looking for. And when he gets paired up with Belphegor he grins.  
Belphie is an incredibly easy partner, one that always goes with the flow and lets you do whatever you want. Sometimes it’s annoying, but on days like today, it’s exactly what he needs.

__

Satan opens his textbook, and flips to the page that he’s looking for. He already knows what he’s going to brew.

__

_A Potion of Forgetful Sleep._

__

It sounds more deadly than it actually is. All it does is prevent you from dreaming about someone. And given what’s been happening lately…  
It’s exactly what he’s looking for.  
Making it is child’s play, and the only tricky part involves acquiring the base component. It has to be something that once belonged to the person. Normally that would be rather difficult, but the red ribbon in Satan’s hands already fills that requirement.  
Belphegor can even add his own, and it’ll be twice as potent.

__

It isn’t long before the cauldron is bubbling, and a green mixture swirls around in it. It occasionally puffs out bits of yellow smoke, and the entire thing smells like lavender.  
As it should.  
Satan frowns as he stirs it. Belphegor occasionally tries to talk to him, but he tunes most of it out. This potion has to be perfect. If he fails…  
He doesn’t want to know what Diavolo will be doing to him in his next dream.

__

Satan continues to stir, and after a minute or two he tosses his ribbon in.  
“Belphie, you can add yours if you want. It’ll increase the potion's strength.”

__

“Sounds good. I was planning on burning this thing anyways.”

__

And as soon as the ribbons get added, it turns a brilliant shade of white.  
_Excellent._

__

Satan focuses on stirring it once more. 30 clockwise followed by 30 counterclockwise motions. Then it’ll be done.  
He’ll be free of Diavolo.

__

Belphegor snickers.  
“Man, I feel sorry for the sap that would actually need this stuff.”

__

Satan continues to stir, his gaze not leaving the cauldron.

__

“I mean, dreaming about Diavolo? I think I’d rather die.”

__

He counts the motions in his head, and thinks of nothing else.

__

“I bet Lucifer dreams about him every night. What do you think?”

__

But Satan doesn’t answer his question, he remains silent. He has to stir their potion 24 more times after all, and he can’t afford to make any mistakes.

__

So he completely misses the strange look that Belphegor sends him, and doesn’t notice how his brother's eyes widen a second later.  
“...the fuck?”

__

“Did you say something, Belphie?”

__

“No. Continue doing your thing. You’re almost done, right?”

__

“Just about. Is it okay if I take all of it for myself?”

__

“Knock yourself out.”

__

Satan grins, and makes the finishing touches on their potion. And once again, he fails to pay attention to his younger brother. If he did, then he would have heard him cursing Diavolo under his breath. ( _‘First Lucifer, and now him? What the actual fuck? What’s so good about that shitty—‘_ ). But it doesn’t take long for Belphegor to simmer down, and a sigh of acceptance escapes his lips.  
“Things really did get weird while I was away.”

__

But Satan, of course, hears nothing. He has finally finished his potion and stored it in a flask. And as Satan holds it up to the light he grins.  
_It’s perfect._  
Diavolo won’t be haunting his dreams anymore.

__


	3. Chapter 3

Satan’s day started like any other. He woke up, ate breakfast, and went to class. It’s like clockwork. And ever since he drank that potion, his dreams have been completely Diavolo free. He’s not looking forward to the day that he runs out, but that is a problem for future him. Presently he’s just happy to finally have this feeling under control.

Without those dreams, he can finally breathe, and place that crush is under lock and key. At this rate, it won’t be long before it vanishes completely. And when it finally does, he won’t have to worry about scaring Diavolo off. 

...The prince would be horrified if he ever found out how much he made Satan’s heart race. It’s the only possible reaction that he could have. No one could want that.  
No one could want him.

So Satan longs for the day he can put this crush behind him. It’s the only way his relationship with Diavolo can be salvaged.  
After all, what other future is there for them, other than heartbreak?

He walks through the halls without any destination in mind. The tapping of his shoes against the floor calms him in a way. Especially with the silence that seems to blanket the building. Most students are in class after all. Satan will make up for his missing assignments later.

Yes, everything is perfect, at least until several voices ruin it all. They’re owners are unfamiliar, but that’s not important. A single name is uttered, and Satan comes to a halt. 

“—Diavolo is so fucking useless you know. He’s such a pushover, literally doesn’t do anything. Dude probably just sits there and picks flowers all day. I wish we weren’t lead by such a fucking dumbass.”

_...What?_

The other demon, that useless piece of garbage, chuckles and nods his head in agreement.

And something inside of Satan snaps.  
_How dare they!_  
He storms over to them, and lets out a blood-curdling snarl.  
“ **What did you just say?** ”

The first demon snorts.  
“What, that Diavolo’s a little bitch?”

He then turns around, and sees that it’s Satan that he’s addressing. He visibly pales.

The other one attempts to salvage the situation.  
“H-hey, calm down sir. It’s not that big of a deal he didn’t mean—“

But Satan isn’t in the mood. His gaze is locked onto the demon from before, and it’s full of nothing but _rage_.  
“Didn’t _mean it_? Then perhaps he shouldn’t have such trash spilling out of his mouth. There’s only one little bitch in this school, and I am looking directly at him.”

If that demon was smart, then he would have run. But instead, he makes the terrible mistake of fighting back.  
“Since when did you care about him so much? Are you fucking him or something? I bet he bottoms like a—“

He never gets to finish his sentence. Satan transforms, and strangles him with his tail. The demon lets out a choked gasp.

_Yes, this is much better._

A round of manic laughter leaves Satan’s lips.  
“No, do go on. Please, **tell me more**.”

His tail tightens around the demon’s throat, crushing his windpipe.

The other one lets out a panicked squeak.  
“Hey! It was just a joke! There’s no need to—“

“ **No need?** ”  
Satan drops the body and stalks towards him.  
“ **Ah, that’s right. You agreed with him, didn’t you?** ”

“I—“  
The demon is unable to say anything more before Satan’s tail is stabbed through his chest. There’s a sickening crunch, a splatter of blood, and then nothing. Only the sound of another body hitting the floor.

But the one from before isn’t dead, not yet at least. He scrambles up and tries to escape. Unfortunately for him, Satan is quicker. His claws tear into the demon's flesh. A round of pleas echoes throughout the halls, but Satan is unable to hear them.

There are noises around him. He knows that. The sound of a blood curdling scream, his heavy breathing, a clamor of footsteps racing towards his location. But they have no meaning.  
There is only this anger, this wrath that courses through his veins.

They should never have insulted Diavolo.  
They don’t have the _**right—**_

“Satan?”

It’s a voice that he knows all too well, one that doesn’t improve the situation.  
_Lucifer._

Lucifer is talking, but the words don’t register in Satan’s brain. Yet his presence is enough to lift some of the fog. Blood paints the hallways, and two corpses litter the ground. 

Satan’s hands are shaking.  
What happened is obvious.

At first he hears nothing, but then a sound slowly starts to make its way towards him. It’s coming from Lucifer. The demon is humming a tune, one that’s incredibly familiar to him. Yet it’s been ages since he's heard it. When did he—  
_Oh._

____

It was Lilith. They would sing this song to her when she was upset. Or Lucifer would at least. Satan didn’t exactly have a mouth to use.

____

The lyrics roll around in Satan’s head. He knows them by heart.  


> _Sleep my child, sleep my darling.  
>  All too soon my song will cease.  
>  When you have left my arms so loving,  
>  May you then find a life of peace.  
>  ‘Tho life offers pain and sorrow  
>  To the humble, lowly born,  
>  Yet there will be for all a bright tomorrow.  
>  Work, my child, for that happy morn.  
>  Work and love your toiling brother  
>  While you sing a song of peace.  
>  When workers clasp hands with each other,  
>  Then the whole world will be at peace._

____

Memories come flooding back, of a girl sniffling in their arms.  
“Do you really think that’s true?”

____

_No. There can be no peace after that. The Celestial Father will follow through with his threat._

_____ _

_____ _

_Lilith will die._

____

Lucifer nods.  
“One day Father will understand, and the two of you can get married. Perhaps you’ll even have children.”

____

She laughs and wipes away a stray tear.  
“Barb says I’m already enough of a handful.”

____

_He will never understand. The Celestial Realm is ruled by a tyrant, one that knows no love._

____

“That you are. Would you like me to sing another verse?”

____

_This place needs to be burned to the ground._

____

“Please do.”

____

_His screams, the sound of Him begging for forgiveness, that would make a prettier song, wouldn’t it?  
**We should have Him sing for us instead.**_

____

Lucifer opens his mouth, but Lilith quickly covers it with one of her hands.  
“Wait!”

____

She places a kiss on his cheek.

____

_Tell her the truth._

____

He flushes, and Lilith grins.  
“I love you, you know that, right?”

____

_You’re nothing but a coward._

____

Lucifer plasters on a smile and ruffles her hair.  
“I know.”

____

And then he begins to sing.

____

Over several millennia have passed since then. Yet there is one element that has remained the same.  
Satan’s wrath cannot be vanquished by a simple song.  
And he’s not some lovesick angel.

____

“I’m not her.”

____

Lucifer rolls his eyes.  
“I know, but it’s not just her song. It belongs to the both of you.”

____

“...What do you mean?”

____

“You’re a smart boy Satan. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

____

The lyrics play over and over again in Satan’s head.  
_My darling. My child._ If Lilith was the darling, then that would make him...

____

No. There has to be another explanation.

____

But it always helped, didn’t it? His anger was an inferno, one that seemed to never run out of fuel. Satan couldn’t talk to his brothers, he couldn’t hold Lilith's hand. The only thing he could do was scream inside of Lucifer’s chest.

____

_Let me out!  
Do something for once!  
Listen to me!_

____

And Lucifer would answer him with that song. That melody that sunk into the very depths of his soul like a hug. It chained him, lessening his anger to the point where he could do nothing more than grumble or growl.

____

The worst part is that he grew to like it. It became a comfort, something to ground him to the present. And then it morphed into a part of his life. The tapping of his foot, the clicking of a pen, even now Satan finds his tail softly swaying to the beat.

____

No. It’s Lilith's song, not his. That makes the most sense after all. Why would Lucifer care about whether or not he was happy?  
He didn’t even exist back then.  
He was nothing more than a parasite, one that Lucifer got rid of as soon as he could.

____

_It was their song._ What a stupid thing to lie about. The lyrics mean nothing. Lucifer would never refer to him as his child, intentionally or not.

____

Still, it did its trick. He can feel himself slowly starting to regain control. The anger is there, but it no longer consumes him.  
It’s manageable.

____

Lucifer’s hand pulls away from him, and Satan frowns. He didn’t even realize that he had touched him, or that he had checked him over for wounds. There aren’t any to be found of course. Those idiots didn’t stand a chance.

____

Lucifer’s gloves glimmer in the light, and Satan can see that now they’ve taken on a crimson sheen.  
Blood. There's blood on Lucifer's hands  
It isn’t his, yet it makes Satan feel sick all the same. That air of calmness is already starting to slip away.

____

He has to get out of here. Lucifer needs to leave.

____

But Lucifer refuses to leave well enough alone.  
“Tell me what happened.”

____

“ **No**.”

____

“Satan—“

____

“Your dumb little song doesn’t change anything. So back off.”

____

“Do you seriously expect me to just brush this aside—“

____

“I _expect_ you to mind your own business.”

____

“I am your brother. **This is my business**.”

____

_...His brother. What a fucking joke._

____

A snarl escapes Satan’s lips as he tries to storm away, but Lucifer grabs onto his arm before he can move.  
“Lord Diavolo wants you in his office. **Now**.”

____

_Of course he does.  
This day just keeps on getting better and better._  
Still, Diavolo is something that can’t be escaped. He is in charge of RAD after all, and Satan just murdered two of its students.

____

He can feel himself tense at the prospect. That’s not a confrontation he’s looking forward to, to say the least.  
His thoughts are interrupted by Lucifer draping his coat over his shoulders.  
“What are you—“

____

“You’re covered in blood. If anyone were to see you like this…”  
Lucifer sighs.  
“Get yourself cleaned up first. Your meeting with Diavolo is in one hour. And Satan, if you’re late, _**I will fetch you myself**_.”

____

~+~+

____

Satan tugs the coat around him as he walks throughout the halls. It doesn’t provide him any comfort, but it’s something to focus on at least. So he concentrates on the feeling on the fur collar around his neck, on the way the coat flaps about on his smaller frame. The anger is pushed aside, but not forgotten.

____

He has to shower first.

____

Once Satan arrives in his room, he throws Lucifer’s coat to the floor. The inner lining of it is now stained with blood.  
A dark thread of amusement makes its way through his head.  
_It looks like he was able to ruin it after all._

____

Not that it makes a difference. Lucifer has thousands of them, and they are all completely identical. Yet there’s something about this image that’s unsettling. Perhaps it’s the leftover anger that has yet to leave him, or maybe it’s the stench of blood, but it reminds him of another time.  
The day he was truly born.

____

Satan quickly shoves that memory aside. Now’s not the time to remanence. The only thing he needs to do right now is bathe. Besides, the hot water should relax him. 

____

Several minutes later the shower is on, and a thick layer of steam coats the entire room. It’s humid, incredibly so, yet it doesn’t feel like enough. He still feels tense, like he’s seconds away from ripping the shower door off of its hinges and storming out. 

____

Satan growls as he scrubs at his body, but he doesn’t feel any cleaner. 

____

_Monster. Freak. Beast. Thing._ The taunts swirl around in his head, and Satan can’t dispel them. Not when they’re right.

____

But regret is the farthest thing from his mind. It’s what they deserved. If anything, he went far too easy on them. Death is a quick escape. They don’t have to deal with the consequences of their actions.

____

It’s not a luxury that Satan gets to have. He has to live with this mistake, along with all of the other ones that he’s made in the past. Apparently his anger is something that he’ll never outgrow.

____

A clump of dried blood is still caked onto his arm. Satan lets out a hiss as he scrubs at it a bit too hard, and his nails break skin. It’s only a scratch, but the small dots of red that well up make him feel sick.  
It seems the only thing he can do today is hurt people, including himself.

____

Satan’s hands begin to shake. He closes his eyes, and takes several deep breaths. The only sound in the room is that of running water. His tail lashes out, and smacks against the shower door. He’s transformed, but that’s fine.

____

_He’s **fine**._

____

Besides, his tail is filthy. Blood paints a good portion of it, and Satan can feel where it’s clogging some of the joints.

____

_...This is going to take awhile._

____

Satan loses himself in the process. Tail maintenance is an incredibly tedious thing, especially for him. Each and every segment is stiff, and Satan has to rub and scrape at them with his nails in order to remove the gunk. But it’s something to focus on, even if it’s only temporary.

____

The blood washes off of him, bit by bit. It pours down the drain, leaving only Satan and his thoughts.  
He rests his head against the shower wall and lets out a sigh.

____

_He lost control._  
The one thing he was good at was keeping himself contained, no matter what happened. It was a skill he had spent his entire life honing. And now he can’t even do that properly.

____

He’s murdered others before. Granted, it happened a very long time ago, but it’s still a part of his past. That’s how all of those rumors about him got started in the first place. 

____

_He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  
His persona is a lie.  
Don’t get too close._

____

But this time was different in comparison.  
His wrath wasn’t fueled by anger alone. Another emotion was there, one that he still doesn’t quite understand.  
It’s that crush.  
By insulting Diavolo they are stepping all over it. The prince’s smile, his brilliant schemes, the way he’s able to make Satan laugh no matter what…  
No demon has the right to insult him. To say that Diavolo is dumb, that he does _nothing_ —  
Satan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

____

The idea of it is infuriating, to say the least.

____

Still, he should have known better. How can he change if he falls back into old habits? If he holds onto his anger as if it’s some warm and comforting blanket?

____

Perhaps it was stupid of him to assume that he could be anything else. No matter what he does, he cannot change what lies underneath. And today is living proof of that.

____

He turns off the shower and slowly begins to dress himself. Normally he’d be in a rush, seeing Diavolo should be a good thing. But the only thing he feels right now is dread. 

____

He already knows that he can’t handle the inevitable disappointment that’s going to be it Diavolo’s gaze. Yet at the same time it will be nothing compared to what he’s feeling right now.

____

_Once a monster, always a monster._  
He was a fool to have forgotten that.

____

Emotions are dangerous, and he can’t afford to feel any of them. So he takes a deep breath, and works on shoving them all away. There’s no anger, no crush.  
Only a mask, one that he should never have removed.

____

~+~+

____

He stands outside of Diavolo’s office, his hand hovering over the door.

____

_Does he look okay?_  
He washed off all of the blood, didn’t he?  
It’s hard to tell. He still feels dirty, and no amount of soap is going to scrub that away.  
But he forgot to look at his hair, to double check his outfit.  
Is his tie on straight?  
Is his cape…?  
..!  
He forgot the cape.  
_He can’t see Diavolo like this!_

____

That’s right. It’s for the best if he turns around and leaves. He can return some other time, when he’s more presentable. The mask is already starting to crack. Maybe he doesn’t need to confront Diavolo at all. He just just write the prince an apology letter and—

____

Diavolo’s voice rings out from the other side of the door.  
“Satan? You can come in.”

____

_So much for that idea._

____

His hands are shaking again. For some reason he’s terrified. Satan takes a deep breath, and shoves that feeling aside.  
It’s foolish to delay the inevitable. If this is what causes Diavolo to hate him, then that’s fine.  
After all, it’s impossible to obtain peace when you have the Avatar of Wrath living under your roof. It was only a matter of time before Diavolo grew to resent him.

____

The thought hurts. Satan can feel his eyes starting to sting. He quickly bottles that feeling away.  
The mask. He can’t forget about the mask. As long as he has it he’s safe.

____

With trepidation, he opens the door. Immediately he’s greeted by Diavolo. The prince is patiently waiting for him at his desk. Satan’s eyes dart elsewhere. The bookshelf, the drapes, a nearby lamp. Anything is better than seeing the inevitable hatred on Diavolo’s face.

____

The prince clears his throat.  
“I heard about what happened. Although I have no doubts about your strength, I’m glad you’re unharmed.”

____

From the corner of his eye he can see Diavolo uncross his arms.  
“Needless to say I can’t say the same for the other two. Their names were Raum and Shax. Neither one of them was a model student, but they were students all the same.”

____

His voice lowers.  
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

____

The words get stuck in Satan’s throat.  
He hears Diavolo’s chair scrape across the floor.

____

“Satan.”

____

The prince's footsteps are getting closer.

____

Diavolo sighs.  
“Satan, look at me.”

____

_No. His heart wouldn’t be able to handle it._  
Diavolo could show him this much mercy at least.  
He can’t—

____

A hand cups his cheek.  
“I don’t need to turn it into a command, do I?”

____

The prince tilts his head towards him, and their eyes meet. A small gasp leaves Satan’s lips. Diavolo’s gaze is full of nothing but warmth and _kindness._

____

“There you are my dear. I had missed you.”

____

_Ah._  
There is no disappointment to be found, only concern. And something else, something softer.  
It makes all of his fears vanish into thin air.

____

Diavolo's voice comes out as a low hum.  
“Now then, tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t had an outburst like this in over a millennia.”

____

The truth spills out of Satan’s mouth. The mask is nowhere to be found, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need it. The trust that the two of them have built cannot be broken, even by something like this. He was a fool to have forgotten that.  
“They said something bad about you.”

____

“And you defended me?”

____

That’s putting it mildly, but Satan nods.

____

“I am honored, but as I told Lucifer once before, there are going to be demons out there that don’t like me, and that say terrible things about me behind my back. That’s just how the world works.”

____

But Diavolo’s words don’t have their intended effect. If anything, Satan’s anger is ignited once more.  
_That’s just how the world works._  
What a load of crap. 

____

“Do you even know what they called you?”

____

“Whatever they said is unimportant.”

____

_Unimportant?!_

____

He knocks Diavolo’s hand aside and growls.  
“They called you a dumbass and said you bottomed like a bitch.”

____

“Well, that was… rude of them.”

____

“Oh, it was _far_ more than rude.”

____

Rude is someone cutting in line.  
Rude is tracking mud across a clean floor.  
Rude is insulting someone’s outfit.  
What they did was _**out of line**_.

____

Diavolo shrugs it off.  
“But as I’ve already told you, that’s just how things are. I’m not going to be loved by everyone.”

____

“Well you should!”

____

After everything that Diavolo has done for his subjects, they should praise the very ground he walks on. The prince is constantly piled up in work, and has the weight of the entire kingdom in his shoulders.  
And this is how they repay him?!  
“Are you honestly trying to tell me that you’re okay with this?”

____

“I wouldn’t say that, but it’s something that I’ve come to accept.”

____

“ **No**.”

____

Diavolo frowns.  
“No?”

____

_**No.**_  
Diavolo should be demanding everyone’s respect. He has the power to do so, so why doesn’t he? Why isn’t he trying to change any of this? And why is Satan the only one who’s upset about it?

____

His eyes glance over Diavolo’s frame once more, over the prince’s calm and collected expression, and he sees red.

____

“You should be mad! It should make you absolutely livid that he had the audacity to look down on you when he was less than dirt!”

____

A nearby vase shatters against the wall.

____

“When your goals and ambitions clearly outshined his own!”

____

One of the curtains gets torn.

____

“Death was too good for that punk! I should have tortured him until—“

____

He slams his foot through a chair.

____

“Satan.”

____

A book gets thrown.

____

“—He and his little friend should have been groveling on their knees!”

____

Everything on top of Diavolo’s desk is scattered across the floor.

____

“And then I’d break their kneecaps one by one!”

____

“ **Satan**.”

____

He finally turns around, and is surprised to find that Diavolo is only several inches away from him.

____

Satan frowns. He’s breathing heavily, and his body is shaking. He’s lost control. The anger flows through his veins, and even though he’s aware of it, he’s barely able to keep it all in check.

____

_Why isn’t Diavolo running?_  
The prince should be terrified.

____

But there isn’t a shred of fear in his gaze. Satan’s rage is a burning inferno, destroying every single thing in the room. It clogs up his throat and clouds his mind. _He’s dangerous._

____

So the last thing he expects is to feel Diavolos arms wrap around him in an embrace. It’s comforting. Why is it so—

____

Diavolo softly whispers into his ear.  
“Thank you. I’m lucky to have someone like you care about me.”

____

No. He isn’t lucky at all.  
His life would be better off if Satan played no part in it. This kindness is only going to get him killed somewhere down the line. He needs to let go, to drop Satan like the ticking time bomb he is.

____

But he doesn’t.  
Satan lashes out. He fidgets and squirms, his claws and body doing everything it can to push the man away. Yet Diavolo doesn’t falter. He hugs Satan even tighter, and presses their bodies closer together.

____

“Your anger doesn’t define you, but it is a part of you. And I could never hate you for expressing it.”

____

The fight completely leaves his body, and he goes slack in Diavolo’s embrace.  
_This man is absolutely impossible._  
And it’s one of the many things that Satan likes about him.

____

His hugs are also on that list. There’s something about them that’s relaxing, that makes Satan feel all warm and fuzzy inside. His rage is slowly starting to leave him, bit by bit. He’s never been held this long before. It’s… nice. His anger and insecurities are no longer weighing him down, and the tension is leaving his shoulders. It’s amazing. With one action, and one sentence, Diavolo managed to quell it all. 

____

_I could never hate you._  
Why does that make him so damn happy?

____

Diavolo rests his chin on top of Satan’s head.  
“Feel any better?”

____

“Yes.”  
The word leaves his mouth as a soft whisper, and what little tension remained in his body left with it.

____

It’s impossible to feel anything else. With Diavolo this close he can feel the prince’s heartbeat, and it beats in time with his own. There is a warmth, a giddiness, that has consumed him, and Satan doesn’t know what to label it as. It’s not that crush, not quite. It’s something different, something… brighter.  
With each and every thump of Diavolo’s heart, Satan finds himself falling further and further into it. 

____

He pulls away before he can let himself drown, and that’s when he sees Diavolo’s face.  
There’s a scratch on his cheek.

____

Before he can think about what he’s doing, his thumb glosses over the wound. A small streak of blood gets smeared across the prince’s face.  
“I’ve hurt you.”

____

Diavolo leans into his touch.  
“This is nothing. I’ve suffered far worse.”

____

That’s probably true. Yet it’s different when it’s caused by Satan’s own hand. It’s funny. Although he has hurt many people in the past, this is one of the few times that he’s actually regretted it. And Diavolo is barely even wounded.

____

He sends a tiny pinprick of magic to heal it. The gesture is completely unnecessary, Diavolo could have removed it in the blink of an eye. But Satan isn’t running on logic right now. His emotions are going haywire, and for some reason this one in particular is very loud. Satan still doesn’t know what to label it as.

____

Diavolo lets out a pleased hum, and Satan can feel himself smile in response. The prince is as good as new. Even though Satan breaks things all the time, he can fix this. It might be the magical equivalent of putting a bandaid over a simple scratch, but it’s still _something._  
So why doesn’t it feel like enough?  
“What else can I do?”

____

“What do you mean?”

____

His thumb traces over Diavolo’s cheek once more, even though the wound is no longer there.  
“To make up for what I’ve done. What’s my punishment going to be?”

____

Diavolo frowns.  
“There isn’t one.”

____

“What do you _mean_ —“

____

He destroyed Diavolo’s office and murdered two of his students, of course he has to be punished. It’s what he deserves. So _why_ —

____

Diavolo’s hands move, and begin tracing soothing patterns along his lower back.  
“What’s done is done, and both Raum and Shax would have been tortured by Lucifer anyways, assuming they were caught.”

____

...That’s probably true. Lucifer has always been a stickler for the rules, especially when it concerns Diavolo. If he had seen them…  
Perhaps they should have considered themselves lucky that Satan is the one who found them instead.

____

Just as Satan is lucky to find himself in Diavolo’s arms. His touch is incredibly therapeutic, though Satan can’t say why. Most of the patterns the prince is creating are nonsensical, but one is in the shape of a cat. And despite everything, that singular gesture makes Satan want to laugh. 

____

Diavolo continues talking.  
“Although I don’t typically punish people for it, speaking against me is a form of treason. You aren’t in any legal trouble.  
Besides, I’ve already told you, haven’t I?”

____

His hands finally stop, and settle on Satan’s waist.  
“I’m thankful to have someone like you watching over me.”

____

And yet none of that makes Satan feel any better.  
“...That doesn’t make any of this okay.”

____

There’s a pause, and then Diavolo’s eyes light up.  
“Do you truly want to make it up to me?”

____

Satan nods.

____

“Then forgive yourself.”

____

“What?”  
Why would he—

____

“We all have bad days, and I am not exempt from them. So I don’t want you to hate yourself for not being perfect. You don’t have to be.”

____

He makes it all sound so simple.  
“...When I mess up, people die.”

____

Diavolo’s expression shifts. The softness from before is gone. Instead there is only darkness, hidden behind a frown.  
“I know. It’s something I go through as well.  
All it takes is one slip up, and my magic could kill anyone in the room, including you. And that’s not even taking politics into account. Should I fail at that—  
...I digress.”

____

It's strange. Satan has spent his entire life thinking that he’s alone, that no one in any of the realms could ever understand him. But Diavolo seeks to prove him wrong time and time again.  
Their anger must be contained. They are a danger to everyone in the room. And in this moment they are together.  
They are not alone.

____

Satan’s arms move to wrap around Diavolo’s waist.  
_I’m here._  
Neither one of them says it outloud, but there’s no need. They understand one another in a way that no one else ever can.

____

And for once Diavolo is the one melting into him. The tension leaves Diavolo’s shoulders as he practically slumps into Satan’s embrace. But Satan doesn’t mind it one bit.

____

Diavolo hums, and whispers against the column of Satan’s throat.  
“I’ve learned to take my failures in stride, and continually focus on trying to become better. Progress isn’t linear, and it took me a long time to understand that.”

____

The prince lifts his head up, and gold meets green.

____

“So no matter what happens my dear, I will always believe in you. And I will always do whatever it takes to protect you.”

____

There is a sincerity in his gaze, one that takes Satan’s breath away.  
It feels less like a promise, and more like an oath. One made out love instead of a sense of duty. But that’s impossible.  
Diavolo doesn’t love him.

____

And the prince would never abandon his duties, no matter what.  
So if Diavolo feels any desire to protect him, it’s because of that. Satan is one of the Seven Demon Lords, and a member of RAD’s student council. That makes him an essential part of the Devildom’s society.  
So of course Diavolo would want to ensure his safety, that’s part of his job. Besides, the other reason is incredibly far fetched, isn’t it?

____

Still, Satan finds himself questioning him, just to be sure.  
“Because of my position?”

____

There’s a pause, and then Diavolo nods.  
“...Yes. You are important to the Devildom as a whole. And nothing is going to change that.”

____

They grin at one another, and Diavolo begins to idly toy with a strand of Satan’s hair.  
“That being said, try not to kill any more of your fellow students in the future. It’s a ton of paperwork to fill out.”

____

A snicker.  
“I can make no promises.”

____

Diavolo softly chuckles at him in return.  
“I suppose you wouldn’t be you otherwise.”

____

And all of a sudden, their proximity to one another registers in Satan’s brain. Diavolo’s hand on his waist, the warmth of his breath, the glimmer in his eye. The desire comes flooding back. Satan wants to move, to close this distance in between them and seal it with a kiss.

____

This isn’t good. He’s supposed to be ignoring this feeling altogether. But it refuses to be contained. It rattles in his chest and turns his brain to mush. Are crushes supposed to be this difficult?

____

Diavolo’s eyes flicker towards his lips, and Satan can feel his heart hammer away in response.  
One of the prince's hands curls tighter around his waist. His breath hitches.

____

_No. They can’t do this._  
It would ruin everything.

____

So Satan hits the abort button, faster than he’s ever hit anything in his entire life. Diavolo gets shoved away, and Satan practically sprints out of the door.  
“It was nice talking with you! I’ll make sure to be more careful in the future!”

____

He doesn’t give Diavolo enough time to reply before he’s gone. Down the hall, out the door, to the House of Lamentation. Satan’s heart continues to race the entire time.

____

Diavolo wasn’t mad at him.  
He wasn’t disgusted by Satan’s actions.  
He _held_ onto him as if he was something precious, as if he was someone worth holding onto.  
It was the one thing Satan hadn’t planned for. There was supposed to be retribution, or at least some form of punishment. But instead he got a hug. They had even almost—  
His heart skips a beat.

____

Satan finally enters his room and slams the door shut. He leans against it, and slides down to the floor. As soon as he hits the ground, a nearby book catches his eye. _Beauty and the Beast._  
It was a story that he once loved, something that he would cling to whenever he felt lonely. _It’s okay._ He told himself time and time again. _Beauty lies within. Even if you were born a beast, one day you’ll find love._

____

How foolish. No one in their right mind would ever settle for him. Even among demons he is a monster. A freak. Diavolo can’t love him, no one can.

____

Satan grabs that book and throws it across the room. It slams into a large stack of novels, and creates a domino effect. All he can do is watch in horror as towers upon towers of books topple over onto the floor.  
…The cleanup is going to be a nightmare.

____

Still, he has nothing else better to do. Satan lets out a sigh, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work.

____

If anything, it’s somewhat of a blessing. It gives him an opportunity to reorganize his collection. Before he had them sorted by the authors name, but maybe now he’ll separate them by genre as well.

____

He’s an hour in before something becomes incredibly apparent, his collection isn’t as balanced as he thought it was. Over half of them are romance novels. It’s already taking up a large portion of his room, and he’s not even done alphabetizing them yet. There are thousands of them; books about kissing and hugging, holding someone’s hand and settling down. One by one Satan divides them up, but the sheer volume of them all is starting to overwhelm him.  
It’s true that he’s been alone for a majority of his life, but...  
Did he really yearn for someone’s companionship that much?

____

Satan already knows the answer to that question. It’s one he always tried to ignore, a dangerous thought he never allowed himself to entertain. But as long as it wasn’t for one specific person, then it was fine. It was simply another desire that he had to ignore.

____

Yet things are different now. He no longer yearns for some nameless figure. Instead, it’s Diavolo. The prince’s smile, his warmth, the idea of him always being by his side—  
Satan quickly crushes that train of thought. He’ll have to stay away from romance novels in the future, for the sake of his sanity if nothing else.

____

Satan picks up the book that created this whole mess and frowns.  
_Beauty and the Beast._  
It really isn’t hard to imagine who he would be in that scenario. But unlike the prince of that story, there is no beautiful maiden to love him for who he is. There’s no curse, and no climatic battle. The only thing Satan has is his anger and these books. And true love’s kiss isn’t going to change that.

____

Still, a part of him craves it, that fairytale romance he’s only ever read about. Diavolo isn’t a maiden in any way, but…

____

Satan shakes his head. His life isn’t a fairytale, and he needs to get his head out of the clouds. He can’t afford to let that feeling consume him. Too much is at stake. Diavolo is important to him now, more so than anyone else. His feelings aren’t mutual. Diavolo doesn’t dream about kissing him under the moonlight, nor does he crave Satan’s touch. Things between the two of them could only ever be platonic. 

____

Satan knows that, and yet it hurts. Perhaps once that crush is finally gone, he’ll be okay with it all. But right now it just makes him feel empty. Hollow. After all, how could he be happy if he’s doomed to stand back and watch Diavolo from a distance for the rest of his life? As someone else eventually kisses him and claims the future that he’ll never get to have?  
A tear falls down his cheek, and Satan hastily wipes it away. There’s no reason for him to cry. From the moment he was born, Satan knew that he wasn’t made to be loved. But strangely enough, when he’s by Diavolo’s side, he’s able to overlook that entirely.

____

Today serves as a reminder, one that Satan will never forget. No matter what, he is a monster. And monsters don’t get happy endings.

____


	4. Chapter 4

Satan wakes up, and already knows that today is going to be terrible. His throat is sore, his nose is stuffy, and he’s already late for class. Getting up is a hassle, and for some reason his limbs don’t want to move. But he gets it done, and arrives at his first class 15 minutes late; not a hair out of place. Thankfully no one comments on it, and the teacher knows better than to ask him questions. Besides, Lucifer is able to answer everything with ease. As always.

He lets out a sigh when he glances at his phone. There’s a missed call, along with a text message.

> Diavolo: I didn’t see you at the meeting this morning. Is everything okay?

...He had completely forgotten about that. Luckily it wasn’t anything important, just another meeting to go over the schools budget. Satan doesn’t even have to be there for that. It’s probably the only reason why Lucifer hasn’t started nagging him.

> Satan: I’m fine. I must have accidentally slept in.
> 
> Diavolo: That’s not like you. Are you feeling well?
> 
> Satan: Not really, no.
> 
> Diavolo: 🥺
> 
> Satan: It’s nothing. My throat is just a bit sore.
> 
> Diavolo: 😱 You’re sick?!?!
> 
> Satan: A little. But it’s nothing to worry about.

Illnesses aren’t common in the Devildom. It happens from time to time, but most things can be cured by magic. And a demon's power, along with their physical strength, go hand in hand. So someone like him getting a cold is practically unheard of.  
But it’s still possible.

Most of his brothers have been sick before. It doesn’t happen often of course, but Satan isn’t the exception. Sometimes people just get sick.

The last one to get like this was Lucifer, and Satan snickers when he remembers how Diavolo reacted. The prince practically turned into a mother hen, and doted on Lucifer for weeks. It was days upon days of offered back rubs and mandatory naps. It drove Lucifer absolutely crazy.

And now he’s sick instead.  
... _Oh.  
**Oh no.**_

A wave of panic hits him. Especially once he reads over their texts.

He had always made fun of the way the prince fawned over Lucifer. And the idea of Diavolo giving all of that attention to him instead…  
It makes him blush. But Satan has been sick before, and Diavolo never cared then. So surely things couldn’t be that different, right?

~+~+

Things are incredibly different. And that becomes apparent when he has a multitude of nurses and physicians ushering him out of the classroom.

Satan growls as he tries to shake them off.  
“I’m fine!”

One of the nurses pipes up.  
“But Lord Diavolo said—“

It’s Diavolo. Of course it is. Although a part of Satan had expected it, the waves upon waves of health care professionals are a bit too much.  
Especially when they are all trying to touch him.

Another nurse gets shoved aside. Satan snarls at the next one.  
“I don’t care. Now leave me alone.”

Someone else tries to check his pulse, and he yanks his arm away.

A voice speaks up.  
“Sir, Lord Diavolo said that your health was of national importance. You need to have a checkup at least.”

He’s not going to get out of this, is he? It’s annoying, but if it gets everyone off his back he’s willing to submit.  
Somewhat at least.  
“I’ll let one physician look at me! One! The rest of you, **get out**.”

There's a brief conversation, and then they finally begin to disperse. Only one demon remains, in a white lab coat and a stethoscope around their neck.  
“Very well then. Satan, if you’ll follow me?”

~+~+

The checkup is brief, and doesn’t tell him anything that he doesn’t already know.

“I’m afraid you have a case of the common cold. Though it’s rather rare for a demon of your strength to get one, you’ll be perfectly fine.”

Yes, besides this cold he’s been in peak physical condition. Although his emotions have been a mess, his body has been completely fine. If only his brain could get with the picture.

The physician continues.  
“The most we can do is treat some of the symptoms. There’s a bag of throat lozenges that you are free to have, along with a bottle of cough medicine. Although the best cure is most definitely some best rest.”

They pass a bag over to Satan, and he shoves it into his pocket. It’s all so simple. Unlike this feeling in his chest, a cold is easy to understand. The cause, the solution, in less than a minute they were able to create something resembling a cure right away.  
It’s a shame that this crush can’t be like that too.

... _Or can it?_

Crushes do come with symptoms, don’t they? A rapidly beating heart, that fluttery feeling in his stomach, a warmth in his chest. Those are all physical things. And Satan can’t help but wonder if, like a cold, there’s something to treat them.  
_Does a cure actually exist?_

“Can I ask you something?”

The physician nods their head.  
“Of course.”

“Is a crush a physical ailment?”

They raise their brow.  
“What do you mean?”

It’s embarrassing, but Satan still manages to mumble out the rest of his question.  
“Could it make you sick? If you liked them too much?”

It’s dead silent for a moment or two, and then the demon answers his question with one of their own.  
“Are you referring to love sickness?”

 _Love sickness._ He’s read about it before, but applying the L-word to his own situation makes him feel nauseous. That feeling isn’t reserved for someone like him. He’s incapable of love.  
Yet it’s an accurate analogy. This crush does make him feel all sorts of things, so perhaps it is a sickness of some sort.  
“...I suppose.”

The physician sighs.  
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. Love, and crushes in general, aren’t some sort of illness that can be cured. They’re an emotion, one that’s perfectly normal to experience.”

It’s not the result he was hoping for, but it also isn’t surprising. Everything about this feeling is complex. Satan can’t imagine it going away at the drop of a hat.

The demon continues.  
“Any emotion can cause a toll on your health if you don’t manage it properly. The most important thing you can do is not to let it stress you out.”

It sounds so easy. And on paper it is. All he has to do is contain that feeling along with everything else; which is what he’s been doing the entire time. So he’s on the right track at least. It’s good to know, but at the same time…  
He was hoping for something more. None of this _feels_ like progress. If Satan closes his eyes, he can picture himself back in Diavolo’s room, with the prince pinning him down on the bed, and a revelation that wasn't supposed to last. But it has. If anything, time has only made that crush worse. It’s morphing, transforming into something else entirely, and Satan still doesn’t know how to process it all. 

How is he supposed to manage something he doesn’t understand?

Satan snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the tapping of a pen. The physician lets out another sigh as they put the pen away, and teleport their clipboard somewhere else. But they aren’t done yet. They turn to Satan, and address him with a frown.  
“May I give you a tip, one demon to another?”

“Go ahead.”

“Allow yourself to feel things. You can still embrace an emotion without acting on it. And your mental health will be better off in the long run.”

...Allowing himself to feel. It’s an idea that Satan struggles with, one that goes against centuries upon centuries of programming. When Satan feels things, people die. But at the same time, he can’t imagine this feeling hurting anyone. It’s too soft, too light. It would be like trying to stab someone with a plushie. This crush doesn’t control him, that’s true. And that’s never going to change. So perhaps he can let himself enjoy it, if only for a little while. Because this emotion isn’t like his anger. It’s harmless.

Satan gets up, but the physician quickly asks him to wait a moment.  
“Before you leave, I was told to give you this.”

The demon then places a kitten sticker on Satan’s chest. It has the words ‘I hope you’re feline better’ written on it in glittery ink. He instantly recognizes Diavolo’s handiwork. A handwritten message… how incredibly sweet of him.

His heart begins to flutter in response, and Satan’s hand automatically hovers over it. 

_Yes. Perhaps he really is love sick._ And like a cold, there’s no known cure. The only thing he can do is wait for things to get better.

~+~+

He’s in his room, quietly reading a book, when Diavolo bursts through the door. Before he even has time to blink the prince has wrapped him up in a hug.  
“I came as soon as I could!”

He can barely speak. Most of his words get muffled in Diavolo's chest.  
“What are you—“

The prince pulls away, and gives him a very concerned once-over.  
“The physician said you had a cold! Unfortunately there isn’t a cure for that, so I made you these instead.”

Diavolo then snaps his fingers, and a gigantic cart full of food appears in the room. It’s laden with various soups and teas, along with a vase full of daisy’s. He places the flowers on an empty space in one of Satan’s shelves, and turns towards him with a grin.

“I brought a bunch of different foods that are supposed to help you feel better. I didn’t know what to make, so I made them all.”

It’s far too much. The food, the flowers. No one had ever done that for him before. Sure, his brothers have cooked for him in the past, but never to this extent. Satan has never been the kind of demon that gets flowers and warm wishes. He’s told to go to bed, and to get over it. Yet here Diavolo stands, an earnest expression in his gaze. The pink daisy’s that he’s gifted him already make the place feel brighter.

But Satan doesn’t deserve any of that.  
He’s fine.  
“There’s really no need—“

Diavolo doesn’t seem convinced.  
“Of course there’s a need. You’re sick.”

“It’s just a cold. I’m not dying or anything.”

The prince lets out an over dramatic sigh as he swoons into Satan’s arms.  
“Ah, but I am. It kills me to know that you are unwell.”

He grabs him out of reflex, and Diavolo looks up at him with a grin. He lifts one of his hands to stroke Satan’s cheek.  
“You’ll let me look after you, won’t you?”

It’s hard to argue with him, especially with that expression on his face. Turning him down would be equivalent to kicking a puppy, or dousing a kitten with a bucket of cold water. Besides, the idea of it isn’t terrible.

What would it be like, to have someone truly care for him?  
Satan doesnt know. But for the first time in his life, he wants to find out.

So the only thing he does is grumble and turn his head away.  
“Don't get too close, you’ll get sick too.”

Diavolo tilts Satan's head back towards him, and addresses him with a smile.  
“If I do, than I’ll deal with it. You are worth the risk.”

He really isn’t. Diavolo is the most important demon in the Devildom, and Satan is just one of his many subjects. In the grand scheme of things, he’s nothing. He’s not worth any risk, even for something as small as this.

Satan opens his mouth. But before he can say anything, Diavolo shushes him with one of his fingers.  
“Don’t speak. Your throat is sore, isn’t it?”

That’s actually true, although the pain isn’t unbearable. The effect from his cough drops earlier must have worn off.

Diavolo’s eyes brighten.  
“I have a drink for that actually!”

He scrambles over to that food cart, and brings over a tea set. Satan resists the urge to coo over the kittens that are painted on each and every cup. The pot itself doesn’t match, and is simply a bright shade of red. Diavolo must have grabbed whatever he could find.

It doesn’t take long for him to pour Satan a cup.  
“This is a mixture of water, honey, and lemon. It should soothe your throat right away.”

So it isn’t tea. An interesting choice, but not one that Satan disapproves of. He stares at it for a moment or two, and takes a sip.

_It’s good._

He lets out a pleased hum, and Diavolo's eyes light up.  
"If you need help drinking it, I can always assist."

Satan rolls his eyes as he takes another sip.  
“I don’t need you to hold the cup for me.”

Diavolo throws him a wink, and lowers his voice down to a sultry purr.  
“Who said that you’d be drinking out of the cup?”

 _…!_  
Satan can picture it all so clearly. It’s a trope that he’s read about dozens of times. Diavolo would take a sip, and then…  
His mouth would taste like honey. They’d have to kiss for a while too, in order to ensure that Satan got every last drop.

And then reality comes crashing down. Satan immediately chokes on his drink. Some of it spills out of his mouth, but thankfully every last drop of it lands back in the cup. The taste of honey lingers, and if Satan closes his eyes, he can pretend that Diavolo is the cause.  
The idea of it takes his breath away.  
It also makes him cough.

He can hear the prince snickering underneath his breath, and Satan wants to kick him.  
... _He was purposely waiting for me to take a sip first. Just so he could pull off a stunt like that._

Satan growls, although his blushing cheeks ruin the effect.  
“Oi, don’t say stuff like that!”

Diavolo’s laughter only grows, as does his smile.  
“You sound better already!”

He gently takes the cup from Satan’s hands, and places it back on the cart.  
“Although your face looks rather red now. Are you getting a fever?”

They’re close now, and Diavolo presses their foreheads together. The prince hums. His voice is low, soft, and smoother than honey.  
“Hmm… you do feel rather warm.”

That’s right. Satan has seen this before, in multiple TV shows and novels. This is a way to check for temperature in the human world, and it’s a fairly common one at that. So this gesture is completely platonic. Yet, the only thing he can focus on is how _close_ their mouths are.

They’re within kissing range. Even though Satan is technically sick, it wouldn’t be hard. All he would have to do is tilt his head, and lean in.  
But that’s a terrible idea, and this crush doesn’t control him. So instead, he pieces together a response.  
“No, I’m not—“

Their eyes meet. All Satan sees is mirth and wonder. There’s no darkness, and no lust. Only a demon, one that’s having far too much fun.

“...You’re teasing me.”

There’s a pleased gleam in Diavolo’s eye, as if Satan had made his day by catching onto his plan. He pulls away with a grin, and then boops Satan’s nose.  
“That I am.”

~+~+

More food and drinks follow. Diavolo insists on handing each and every piece to him, and spoon feeding him when he can. It’s… different. But also nice. Especially since he barely has the strength to move. His joints are starting to feel stiff and tired. Even the smallest of gestures require effort, which Satan is starting to run low on. The prince continues to chat away, and Satan winces as he passes over an empty cup.

Diavolo catches onto it immediately.  
“Do your muscles ache?”

This will only cause him to dote on Satan even more, but lying to Diavolo has always been a lost cause.  
Satan nods.

But Diavolo seems prepared for this outcome. Satan wouldn’t be surprised if hounded every single doctor he could find. The man is overzealous in his desire to care for others, and having all of that attention laced on him is incredibly new. Yet, he doesn’t mind.

Not at all.

After a moment or two, Diavolo’s eyes light up. It’s a look that Satan is familiar with, one that spells nothing but trouble. The prince just came up with a plan.  
“I know just the remedy! I’ll make you a warm bath!”

An innocent idea, at least until he feels Diavolo pick him up. Before Satan can even blink, the two of them have been teleported into the palace.

He’s in Diavolo’s bedroom. The prince sets him down, and gestures to a door off to the side.  
“My bathroom is bigger! And this way you don’t have to worry about your brothers getting sick.”

Both of those statements are true. Although a cold isn’t deadly by any means, he would hate for any of his brothers to catch it on his account. His bathroom is also terribly small, and only contains a shower. Normally that would be fine, but now…  
A chance to rest his aching muscles would be greatly appreciated. 

Yet there is still one key thing that Diavolo is missing.  
His health is important too.

“And what about you?”

He must be covered in Satan’s germs. The two of them have been in close contact for over several hours. And even now, his hands linger on Satan’s frame.  
“I’ll be fine. I’ve never gotten sick before. And even if I do catch something, you are worth the risk.”

...He needs to stop saying that. Satan isn’t special. He is one demon amongst thousands. A man who can’t compare to any of his brothers, much less the prince of their entire realm.

“I’m not worth anything.”  
It’s the truth. So why is it that Diavolo is unable to grasp that?

Satan’s gaze drops to the floor, and Diavolo gently tilts his chin up. He’ll never get used to the golden warmth in Diavolo’s eyes, or in how it makes him melt.  
“Nothing in my treasury could ever compare to you. You outshine it all.”

 _Ah._  
Satan can’t stop the flustered grin that makes its way across his face. Diavolo whips out his phone, and Satan is blinded by a flash of light.

Diavolo took a photo, and it’s the most unflattering thing he’s ever seen. Satan’s hair is a mess, and his nose is slightly pink from all the times he’s had to blow it. That’s not even mentioning the dumb grin on his face. He looks like a moron.

But Diavolo is looking at it as if it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.  
“See that smile? It’s worth it’s weight in gold.”

“Delete it.”

“No, it’s mine forever!

He tries to reach for Diavolo’s phone, but the prince is taller, and holds it out of his grasp.

_Fine. Two can play at that game._

He still tries to reach for the prince's phone, but its nothing more then a ruse. They fumble around for a bit, and then Satan feints. Instead of grabbing Diavolo's hand, he quickly brings out his phone and snaps a photo of the man in front of him. The sight of it makes him laugh. It’s a bit blurred, but it’s just as unflattering. The angle is awkward, and his neck looks nonexistent. There’s a grin, but it’s one with far too many teeth. The prince looks stupid, and Satan wants to keep this photo with him forever.

Diavolo glances at it and snorts.  
“Unfortunately for you, I like that picture.”

_Does he really? _  
“Good. I’m saving it as my phone’s home screen.”__

____

And to his complete and utter surprise, Diavolo doesn’t take it back.  
“Then I’ll do the same, to make us even of course.”

____

_Hmm… touché._  
A minute later both of their phones sport a picture of the other person's face. 

____

Satan stares at his for a moment or two, until Diavolo startles him by placing a hand on his shoulder.  
“Now, I’m going to get started on your bath. Wait here.”

____

The prince departs. And once Satan sees him enter the bathroom, he glances back down at his phone’s screen. It’s amazing, how such a silly photo can make him this happy. And something about having the prince’s face nearby is calming.

____

Yes, this way he can carry Diavolo (and the prince’s happy-go-lucky energy) with him wherever he goes. And Diavolo can carry Satan with him as well. Even on the days when they can’t meet, now they will always have each other. The idea of someone carrying his photo around with them is strange. Even more so if they take comfort from it. Satan doesn’t know what he has to offer, but he hopes that whatever it is, it makes Diavolo happy.

____

~+~+

____

Eventually the bathroom door opens, and Diavolo steps out. A small layer of steam already begins to blanket the room, and Satan can smell the water from here.

____

It’s lavender and chamomile. Although he isn’t normally a fan of flowery scents, he can make an exception for this. Especially since he’s already starting to feel some of the tension melt away from his shoulders.  
He didn’t even realize that he was stressed.

____

The prince greets him with a grin.  
“It’s ready!”

____

He ushers him in through the door, and Satan is met with the most extravagant bath that he’s ever seen.  
Candles litter the area, and various flower petals float around in the water. The scent, surprisingly enough, isn’t overwhelming. It’s light and airy, something that Satan can smell, but at the same time it’s in no danger of making him feel nauseous. The water itself is a light shade of pink, and seems to glitter.

____

_He can’t wait to get in._  
Satan starts to remove his shirt, when he remembers that Diavolo’s still in the room.  
...The prince hasn’t left yet. And it is a big bathtub.

____

Diavolo raises his brow.  
“Oh, do you want me to stay?”

____

Satan’s face turns a bright shade of pink. The last thing he needs to see is Diavolo without any clothes. His sanity is already questionable at best, and the only thing he has are ideas. If something was there to fuel them…

____

He shakes his head, but his mind is still incredibly frazzled. The humidity must be getting to him. He can feel the warmth of the water from here, along with all of the steam that’s billowing about. Nevertheless, he pieces together a response. Or attempts to at least.

____

“No! Why would I— I’m sick, you would get covered in germs—“

____

Diavolo chuckles.  
“I was only teasing. I’ll let you have your privacy.”

____

But it wouldn’t be bad, would it? Diavolo is already incredibly soft and gentle, and Satan can’t help but imagine the prince’s hands roaming over his body. there’s nothing lustful about this desire. It’s all intimacy in its most basic form. The feeling of Diavolo’s hands combing through his hair, taking turns washing each other’s back… why does that sound so nice?

____

“Another time.”

____

“Hmm?”

____

Satan clears his throat, and meets Diavolo’s gaze with his own. Despite how exhausted he is, he’s confident in what he wants.  
“We can bathe together another time, when I’m not feeling ill.”

____

A soft smile graces Diavolo’s face.  
“I’ll look forward to it.”

____

The prince leaves, and then the reality of what just happened begins to sink in.

____

_Why did he do that?!_

____

Sometimes he can barely function around Diavolo, and that’s when the prince is fully clothed.  
So what possessed him to bring something like this up? He’ll probably faint as soon as Diavolo takes off his pants.

____

Satan grumbles as he lowers himself into the water. It’s incredibly warm and soothing, but he’s far too embarrassed to enjoy it. 

____

Is this something that he can take back?  
Was Diavolo taking him seriously?  
Or would he just forget, and then Satan would doom himself by bringing it up?

____

It’s hard to say. There doesn’t appear to be a right answer, but maybe that’s how emotions work. Trying to understand something other than anger is new, but Satan likes to think that he’s getting better at it. Even if the most he can do is say that it’s weird, it’s at least something. And that counts… right?

____

Maybe it doesn’t. But there’s another piece of the puzzle that’s even more confusing, and that’s the prince himself.  
Diavolo wasn’t opposed to it.  
He doesn’t mind the idea of bathing with him.

____

He wants to be with him too. The gentle intimacy that Satan craves… could it be that Diavolo is craving it as well? That question brings up thousands of other ones, but they all boil down to one thing.

____

Does this mean that Diavolo likes him back?

____

It’s a possibility that Satan had never considered, and even now it confuses him. He reflects on it all. The stolen glances, the brushing of hands, their lips nearly touching, the jokes…

____

_...That’s it!_  
The prince was just joking around with him, like he has dozens of times before. That’s the only explanation that makes any sense. It’s impossible for Diavolo to be interested in him after all. He’s _Satan._

____

With that problem finally sorted, Satan can actually begin to relax. He sighs, and sinks further into the tub. The warmth of the water and the scent of lavender has him drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

____

~+~+

____

His mind feels fuzzy and blurred. It’s hard to think, and even harder to move. The world is cold, far too cold. The blanket that’s being wrapped around him does little to combat it. A shiver wracks down Satan’s spine, and he feels someone place their hand on his forehead.

____

“You’re burning up.”

____

_Ah, it's a fever then. That makes sense._

____

Perhaps that’s also why their touch feels incredibly nice. It’s warm, and Satan almost wants to whimper when they take it away.

____

The room he’s in is familiar, especially with all of the books that are scattered about. They’re literally everywhere. Stacked up on the floor, filling up the bookshelves, floating in the air. He’s obviously in his room, but none of that explains how he got here.  
The last thing he remembers is taking a bath, so how did he—

____

A pair of hands gently begin to tuck him in. Satan’s eyes open further, and although the world is still incredibly blurry, Diavolo’s visage is one that he recognizes immediately. The prince must have carried him back to the House of Lamentation.  
It’s all starting to come together, slowly but surely.

____

His body feels heavy, but he still manages to grab one of Diavolo’s hands.  
“Dia?”

____

The prince answers him. Did his voice always sound that pretty?  
“Ah, you fell asleep in the tub my dear. I was just about to leave.”

____

_No._  
Diavolo is warm and nice. Satan’s mind is a muddled mess, but this is the one thing that he can focus on. The one thing that he knows he wants.

____

He grabs onto Diavolo’s shirt.  
“Stay. Wanna cuddle.”

____

There’s a pause, and Satan lets out a yawn as he weakly tries to tug the prince closer.

____

And with that gesture, Diavolo submits.  
“As you wish.”

____

Satan hears the shuffling of someone removing their clothes, and then Diavolo slides in next to him. It takes a minute or two for them to adjust. The bed is small, and was made to fit only one person, but they make it work. They are here to cuddle after all, so it doesn’t matter if they touch. In fact, that’s exactly what Satan is after.

____

Diavolo’s body is warm, amazingly so. A purr escapes Satan’s lips as he snuggles in closer to Diavolo chest and intertwines their legs. His head rests over Diavolo’s heart, and he can hear it pound away. It’s a lovely sound, one that Satan could listen to all night.

____

Diavolo’s voice is a low whisper, one that makes Satan melt into him even more.  
“Is this okay?”

____

_It’s perfect._  
The words get stuck in Satan’s throat. Instead he simply hums his approval. But the desire to give the prince some sort of answer is there, and it’s impossible to ignore.

____

So he speaks.  
And the words that leave his mouth are completely different. Normally they would frighten him, but in this state...  
His mind is too tired to give them any thought.

____

“Night. Love you.”

____

He can hear Diavolo’s heart skip a beat. A soft gasp leaves the prince’s lips, and he transforms. There are horns and wings, but neither one of them gets in the way. The wings curl protectively around the two of them, creating something resembling a cocoon. But one of them strays away from its task, and instead brushes up against Satan’s side. Another hum, and then Satan tugs it towards him as if it was some sort of blanket.

____

Diavolo purrs.  
“I love you too my dear. Sweet dreams.”

____

It’s an incredibly easy task. Satan feels warm, warmer than he’s ever felt in his entire life. Diavolo is everywhere, and that makes him impossibly happy. He can’t remember the last time he felt this content, this safe.

____

The rumbling vibrations of Diavolo’s chest and the sound of the prince’s heartbeat quickly lulls him to sleep.

____

~+~+

____

He must be dreaming. That’s the only explanation for the warmth that has enveloped him, the peacefulness that has wrapped itself around his soul. His mornings have never been this pleasant. This… good. That’s really the only adjective that can describe it.

____

Is this what a good morning is really like? It must be. Satan can’t picture anything better. Especially once he feels Diavolo’s breath fan over his neck. How strange. The potion should have stopped him from dreaming altogether, but Satan isn’t complaining. He closes his eyes, and melts into Diavolo’s embrace once more. 

____

They’ve never been this close before. Sure, they’ve shared a bed. And sure, they’ve cuddled. But there was always a barrier there. Now there is nothing. Just skin on skin.

____

_Wait._

____

Satan’s eyes snap open. Underneath the covers, he’s wearing hardly anything at all. No pants. No underwear. Just a shirt, one that’s far too big on him. 

____

_This isn’t a dream._ Last night is still a blur, and he can’t remember most of it, but he knows that Diavolo carried him home. And that he had asked him to stay.

____

_A part of him wanted this. Why is that?_  
Is this something that people with crushes do?

____

Satan sighs. He was sick after all, so he can’t blame himself for giving in. Besides, this is... nice. He’s never woken up like this before, with someone's body wrapped around his own. And it’s not just anybody. It’s Diavolo, his…

____

...What are they exactly?

____

Satan doesn’t know, but none of that matters. He’s still rather sleepy, and Diavolo’s chest makes the perfect pillow. So despite his embarrassment, he doesn’t want to move. The only thing he wants to do is savor this moment for as long as can.

____

It’s strange. The rage, the wrath that once made up his entire being, is still there. As is the void that it left behind. But all of that is being drowned out by the steady rhythm of Diavolo’s heart. 

____

And as he listens to it, the most absurd thought enters his head.  
_Maybe I don’t have to be defined by my anger.  
Maybe I can be defined by this emotion instead._

____

Whatever that emotion is, it’s something incredibly soft and precious. It really shouldn’t belong to someone like him, but Satan finds himself wanting to protect it all the same. Because thanks to it, for the first time in his life, he feels completely at peace.

____

Diavolo’s eyes flutter open. A soft and sleepy smile graces his face once their eyes meet.  
“Good morning.”

____

_Oh._  
Satan’s heart skips a beat.

____

It’s a message that he’s received thousands of times. Yet for some reason, hearing it in person is different.  
It makes his soul… happy. He didn’t know that souls could feel anything, but there’s no other explanation for the sheer amount of joy that radiates from within him. 

____

It’s silly. But in this one moment, in this brief period of time, he doesn’t feel like a monster at all. Instead, he’s simply just Satan. A demon who just so happens to be waking up next to someone that he likes.

____

Satan smiles softly at Diavolo in return.  
“Good morning to you too.”

____

The prince hums, and then presses their bodies closer together. He lets out a contented sigh, and Satan snuggles further into his chest. 

____

Time passes, and Satan is slowly starting to wake up, bit by bit. The warmth that he’s cocooned in begins to have meaning. It’s less general, and defined in several places. It’s the feeling of Diavolo’s bare leg being pressed up against his own, and the warmth of Diavolo’s hands as they lay underneath his shirt. The prince’s breath, his arms, and the blanket that keeps it all contained; that all adds to it.  
But most of all, it’s in the way Diavolo makes him feel. None of that compares to the warmth that’s inside of him. Or the fullness of his heart.

____

The pad of Diavolo’s thumb lightly begins to stroke his chest.  
“Did you sleep well?”

____

And like a cat, that gesture makes Satan want to purr.  
“Yes. Better than I have in a long time.”

____

“It’s the same with me.”

____

Neither one of them moves, and Diavolo doesn’t stop petting him. They simply lay there in silence, and Satan enjoys every last second of it. 

____

But this moment can’t last forever. Eventually, the two of them will have to get up and face the rest of their day. Satan groans at the idea, and nuzzles Diavolo’s arm. That’s when he realizes something else, something that makes his brain short circuit entirely.  
Diavolo isn’t wearing anything at all. And they’re in bed together.

____

The intimacy of this moment, the feeling of Diavolo’s naked body against his own, almost as if they had...  
“Did we…?”  
The question sounds more timid then he intended.

____

Diavolo answers him by wiggling his brows.

____

A shear wave of panic rushes through Satan’s body. He shoves himself away from Diavolo, and lets out a startled yelp as he falls off the bed.

____

The prince bursts into laughter.  
“I was only teasing you my dear. All we ever did is sleep. But I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

____

_Asshole!_

____

In a fit of anger he rips the pillow out from under Diavolo’s head, and smacks him repeatedly with it. The prince just laughs, and blocks it with his arm. With every hit, Diavolo’s laughter grows, as does the blush on Satan’s face.

____

And then, the door slams open.  
“Yo Satan, breakfast is ready! And it’s all been prepared by the great—“

____

Mammon’s voice causes everything to come to a halt. Satan feels nothing but horror once he registers the situation. It doesn’t look good. Diavolo is naked in his bed, and all he’s wearing is a shirt. He quickly hides the pillow behind him, as if that will somehow make the situation better.  
It doesn’t.

____

Mammon frowns.  
“..eh? Why’s Diavolo in your room? And why aren't cha wearing any pants?”

____

Satan’s face flushes an even brighter shade of pink.  
“I can explain!”

____

Yes. There’s a perfectly logical explanation for all of this. One that involves body heat and platonically spending the night together. But he can’t just tell Mammon that. Satan doesn’t know what the truth is, but it probably wouldn’t help any. Things between him and Diavolo are… complicated. And an idiot like Mammon would misinterpret the entire thing.

____

So all he needs to do is come up with a cover story. He glances at Diavolo with the corner of his eye, but the prince doesn’t look embarrassed at all. He merely seems amused, as if this is one of the funniest things to ever happen to him.

____

_Bastard._

____

Satan jabs his elbow into Diavolo’s chest in an attempt to wipe that grin off of his face. It doesn’t work, much to his chagrin.  
“You see — stop giggling Dia — he came over here to discuss one of my upcoming presentations, and he accidentally spilt tea all over my uniform. So he lent me his shirt.”

____

It’s not the best cover story, but it should be fine. It’s only Mammon after all.

____

“You’re tellin’ me that Diavolo came to visit ya at 6AM to discuss school stuff?”

____

“...Yes.”

____

Satan smothers the curse that threatens to leave his lips. _Mammon isn’t going to buy it._  
But that’s not a problem, he can still salvage this. Everything is fine, and he doesn’t have anything to hide. He and Diavolo didn’t _do_ anything.

____

Mammon raises his brow.  
“And then he took off his clothes?”

____

“It was getting a little warm in here.”

____

“But it was cold enough for ya to cuddle in the same bed?”

____

His heart stops. Satan doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is bright red.  
“W-Who said anything about cuddling?”

____

Mammon snickers.  
“Diavolo’s still laying down in your bed.”

____

He is. And he also hasn’t said anything the entire time. Satan frowns, and jabs his elbow into Diavolo’s chest once more.  
_Do something!_

____

Diavolo grins.  
“It’s very comfy, despite its size.”

____

_You ass! That doesn’t help at all!_  
How did Diavolo manage to make the situation even worse?  
“I hate you.”

____

Satan grumbles it underneath his breath, but Diavolo isn’t perturbed one bit. Instead, a shit-eating grin makes its way across his face, and he bursts into laughter.  
“That’s not what you said last night!”

____

_He should have smothered Diavolo with that pillow when he had the chance._

____

Mammon looks at the two of them and snorts.  
“Council work, huh?”

____

He’s definitely not buying it, and Satan can’t blame him. But that’s okay. He has a plan B. It’s not going to change how Mammon’s interpreted the whole thing, but it’ll at least keep him quiet.

____

So Satan hangs his head in defeat.  
“If you don’t mention this to anyone I’ll give you ten thousand Grimm.”

____

“Deal.”

____

After a moment or two Mammon leaves, and Satan’s wallet is definitely lighter. The worst part of it all is that he isn’t even mad. Not truly at least. The annoyance is definitely there, but it’s outweighed by something else.  
Something that is still causing him to blush.

____

He turns to Diavolo with a snarl.  
“You infuriating little—“

____

The prince raises his arms in a form of surrender.  
“Now now my dear, you were in such a good mood earlier! I believe we should still have time to cuddle if you—“

____

The idea of cuddling Diavolo again flusters him more than it should. And given how much of an ass Diavolo was being earlier, it’s the last thing he wants to do right now.  
“Say one more word and I’ll kill you.”

____

“Aww, I love you too!”

____

His heart definitely does not skip a beat. Those words mean nothing. Diavolo is just teasing him. That’s all.

____

Satan growls, and throws his hands up in the air in exasperation.  
“It’s stuff like that! People will get the wrong idea.”

____

Diavolo raises a brow.  
“And what’s the right one?”

____

“That I don’t like you.”

____

The prince's expression immediately falls.  
“Oh.”

____

_Wait. That came out wrong._

____

“No— I don’t dislike you at all, you’re perfectly fine and enjoyable to be around. I meant that in the romantic sense. I don’t like you romantically.”

____

It’s a lie, but it’s one that Satan clings to. He wonders if Diavolo can see right through him, if he’ll confront him and force him to confess the truth.  
_The truth is that I like you, more than I probably should.  
And it’s embarrassing, but there’s a part of me that wants to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. _

____

But all Diavolo does is frown. He seems to consider something for a moment or two, and then sighs.  
“I see. I’m sorry for teasing you earlier. If you want I can explain to Mammon that—“

____

“No!”  
The words leave his mouth without even thinking, but Satan knows that this is the last thing that he wants. The idea of them talking is already bad enough, but if the only thing it does is remind Mammon about what happened…

____

Some things are better off being left alone.

____

“It would only make everything worse, and I’ve already fixed it. He won’t say anything.”

____

Diavolo mulls it over, and then addresses him in a serious tone.  
“You don’t mind him thinking that we’re a couple?”

____

_Right. That’s the downside to this plan._  
It’s definitely not the best outcome, but it also isn’t the worst. Satan knows that Mammon will keep his mouth shut, and that what happened won’t leave this room.  
As embarrassing as it is… it’s also better than telling Mammon the truth.

____

Satan nods.  
“He’s my brother. I trust him, despite how scummy he can be at times.  
What about you?”

____

Yes, Diavolo’s consent is important. It’s only Mammon, but he’ll still be accused of sleeping with Satan either way. And that’s not a fate that Satan would wish on anyone, especially someone he likes.

____

But the prince doesn’t seem to mind.  
“I can live with it. All that matters is that you’re happy.”

____

He says that, and yet… Why does he look so sad? Satan takes some time to reflect on their conversation, to see if he said anything wrong, or if there was a stone that was laid unturned. But there’s nothing.

____

Diavolo shakes his head, and that expression is gone.  
“...I should probably get dressed. As should you.”

____

That’s right, they still aren’t dressed. Satan nods, and quickly moves to grab something out of his dresser.

____

The bed creaks as Diavolo starts to get up. It’s immediately followed by the sound of the prince's feet hitting the floor, and Satan can feel his entire body freeze. Diavolo isn’t wearing any clothes. If he turns around right now, he would see…

____

Deep breaths. This is fine. He just needs to focus on finding his shirt. It should be in the top drawer...  
There’s a shuffling of clothes. He reaches up, and that sound immediately stops. Satan pauses. A thick layer of tension coats the room. Diavolo’s shirt, as it turns out, isn’t nearly as large as he thought it was. He should have gone for the boxers first.

____

But that doesn’t matter. There’s no way that Diavolo’s looking. He’s just being paranoid. So Satan continues to sift through his clothes, and after a moment or two he can hear Diavolo start to get dressed once more. From the corner of his eye he can see Diavolo bend down to pick up his tie, and Satan quickly whips his head around in the other direction.  
He wasn’t enjoying the view, as brief as it was. Although he can’t help but wonder… who puts on their pants last?

____

...Perhaps he isn’t one to talk.

____

Eventually the two of them are dressed, for the most part at least. Diavolo still appears to be struggling with his tie.

____

Satan watches him for a bit. The princes hands are clumsy, and the knot always falls apart at the very end. He needs to slow down, and to take everything at a more gradual pace.

____

“Here. Let me.”  
Satan closes the distance between them. Diavolo nods, and then he gets to work in fixing his tie. His hands brush up against the prince's neck, and he can feel Diavolo shiver.

____

There’s another caress as he moves the tie around in an unneeded direction. Touching Diavolo is enjoyable, if a bit awkward. He’s done it dozens of times, but this time it’s on purpose. And he’s painfully aware of why he’s doing it.

____

He wants this. Gentle touches, helping each other get ready. It’s a domestic form of bliss that he’s only ever read about. As Satan folds the tie once more, he can’t help but think that this is the one time where reality is better. No book or dream could provide him with this amount of warmth.

____

Diavolo’s voice breaks his train of thought. He sounds vulnerable, though Satan can’t possibly fathom why.  
“You truly don’t remember anything from last night?”

____

No. Although Satan has an overall idea of what happened, he can’t remember anything that he said. It’s all a blur from the moment he entered that tub.

____

“My mind is completely blank for the most part. Did something happen?”

____

A pause, and then Diavolo shakes his head  
“No. It’s nothing.”

____

Something about that seems suspicious, but Satan lets it slide. He had a fever after all. He can’t imagine that he said anything worthwhile.

____

Satan’s hands brush up against Diavolo’s collarbone as he completes the final knot. And once that is done, they trail across Diavolo’s chest. Eventually they stop at the tie in question, and he smooths the rest of it out.

____

“There. You look…”

____

The fabric of Diavolo’s uniform is still a bit rumpled, and his hair looks more messy than normal. But it’s his eyes, and his soft expression, that takes Satan’s breath away.  
“... _fine_.” 

____

He truly does. Something about Diavolo’s unkempt appearance makes Satan want to ruin it even more. The prince's jacket looks better on his floor, he’s at his most attractive when the tie is undone, and his hair…  
Satan wants to run his hands through it.  
How untamed can it get?

____

Diavolo’s voice lowers.  
“You look _fine_ as well.”

____

…Are they still talking about the clothes?  
Was Satan ever even talking about them to begin with? He can’t tell. Sometimes Diavolo makes him lose his train of thought. Especially when he’s looking at him like _this_.

____

He’s close. Satan’s hand brushes up against Diavolo’s neck once more, even though there’s nothing left to adjust. 

____

Diavolo hums.  
“Ah, but I believe your tie might be on crooked. If you’ll allow me?”

____

It isn’t. Satan knows that he put his bow tie on correctly, that not a hair is out of place, but he agrees to it without a second thought.  
“Go ahead.”

____

Diavolo’s fingers immediately gloss over his neck, before resting on the bow tie in question. He fiddles with it for a bit, and makes a show of trying to straighten it out. And then his hand starts to wander. Not far of course, but the prince deliberately goes out of his way to run his hands along Satan’s chest.

____

Diavolo looks down at him with a grin.  
“There. You look perfect, as always.”

____

A pause. The prince’s eyes briefly flicker towards his lips before Satan pushes him away. Diavolo has already stayed for too long, and Satan is incredibly late to breakfast. It won’t be long before the others show up. And not everyone can be as easily bribed as Mammon.

____

“You should leave. Before any more of my brothers barge in.”

____

Diavolo nods.  
“You’re right.”

____

The two of them awkwardly wave at one another before Diavolo slips away. He’s gone for two whole seconds before his head is peeping back into the room.  
“Oh, and Satan?”

____

“Yes?”

____

“Have a great day today!”  
Diavolo’s smile, his optimism, shines brighter than the sun. And Satan can’t help but want to bask in its rays. Normally he greets the day without any expectations, but maybe this one will be better than the rest of them.  
In many ways, it already is.

____

So he meets Diavolo’s enthusiasm with a smile of his own.  
“You too, Dia.”

____


	5. Chapter 5

Satan frowns as he looks down at the vial in front of him. He’s starting to run low on his potion.  
There’s enough for a night or two, but after that…  
Diavolo could haunt his dreams once more.

His heart pounds at the idea. Images of Diavolo, of the two of them intertwined and laughing, are ingrained into his head. Holding hands, going out on dates, his dreams had shown him no mercy. Reality was cold. Unforgiving. And in the real world, Satan isn’t loved.  
...He can’t afford to forget that.

That’s why this potion is essential. And why he can’t afford to run out of it. His crush on Diavolo has been acting up. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore. He sees the man in the hallway, and wants to run up to him. To talk about the latest cat video that he saw, or to mention a new theory that he came up with involving one of their favorite shows. But he can’t do that.  
They aren’t friends after all. Not according to the public at least.

Blushing cheeks, butterflies that come and go. Even without the romantic dreams, the emotions of it still hound his day to day life. He looks over the vial once more, and a terrible thought enters his head. One that makes him panic and nearly drop it out of fear.

_What if they got worse?_

No matter what, his dreams never finished. Satan would always wake up before they could kiss or did anything more. There have been close calls though, on multiple occasions. And that grated on him over time. The weight of his desire; not just to be kissed, but to be held. Loved. He longs for it, and for so many other things. Another dream about the prince would only make it worse, especially if their lips ever actually met. Satan shudders at the thought.

Yes, for the sake of his own sanity, he needs to make that potion again. Yet he can’t help but grimace once he remembers the process. It’ll require the destruction of something that Diavolo’s given him.

There’s an array of things to choose from. A bookmark. A handwoven crown. A charm from Diavolo’s necklace. Either one of those things would work, but Satan knows that he can’t get rid of them. The idea of burning it, of ruining any one of Diavolo’s gifts, pains him. Normally, he isn’t attached to material things, nothing other than his books at least. But, like always, Diavolo appears to be the exception.

The memories that they’ve created, that are attached to these objects, are too precious to destroy. Even though his face flushes with embarrassment every time he reads Diavolo’s handwritten message, that bookmark is one of his favorites.

The picture that’s been printed on it is also a plus. As he looks at it, he can’t help but wonder how Pumpkin is doing. If the little kitten and it’s family are okay. Cats come and go, that’s true. And although Satan had figured that he might never see them again…  
The thought hurts. 

It’s easy to become attached to things.  
Perhaps Diavolo is no different. Maybe that’s why he’s been spending so much time with him as of late. It’s just a fickle attachment, a passing fancy. Satan is a bright and shiny object being dangled in the prince's enclosure, and Diavolo plays with him because he has nothing else better to do.

Eventually the day will come when Diavolo has finally had his fill, and then he’ll vanish too; like one of the many cats that Satan has failed to keep. No one has ever stayed. There's always something better to do, or someone better to be with. It’s never bothered him before, and in some ways it still doesn’t. Yet he doesn’t want Diavolo to disappear. The idea of being abandoned by him hurts more than it should.

But that’s okay. The memories that they’ve made together cannot be erased. They’ll live on forever in Satan’s heart. So he finds himself clinging to each and every token that Diavolo’s given him, and the warm and fuzzy feelings that they provide. No matter what happens, he’ll always have this. And for now, that is enough.

Satan shakes his head, and focuses back on the task at hand. It looks like brewing another potion is a lost cause. He lets out a sigh. He'll just have to go with plan B then. It’s not nearly as good, but it is a solution. One that should still provide him with the results that he’s looking for.

So he uncorks the vial, and fills it up with water from his bathroom sink. Now the potion should be able to last him for several more months. It’s effect has been severely weakened since he watered it down, but that’s fine. The only thing that matters is that he doesn’t dream about Diavolo. And whatever the consequences of that are, Satan is willing to accept them.

~+~+

There’s fire everywhere. The Celestial Realm was a place known for its light, but never had it burned. The smoke fills up Satan’s nose. It’s suffocating. He can taste ash on his tongue, along with everyone’s screams.

He is the cause. He knows that and yet…  
He can’t move.  
He can’t speak.

Figures start to appear through the smoke, and Satan recognizes each and everyone of them. His brothers. His sisters. They are fighting. And he can’t help.  
He can only watch.

They fall. One gets stabbed. Another cut down. Blood. Feathers. Satan can’t tell whose is whose. 

But then they start having faces. Mammon. Asmo. Levi. Beel. Belphie. They’re all…

He feels the urge to cry, but he _can’t_. 

And then the Celestial Father stands before him.  
“I should never have created you. You are nothing but a disappointment.”

The image warps, and it’s Lucifer saying that to him instead. But it doesn’t matter. God looms behind Lucifer like a shadow. And he is armed.

Satan wants to warm him, to scream, but he can’t do anything. He’s paralyzed. A laugh, one that doesn’t belong to either of them, and then Lucifer gets stabbed.

Blood pulls out of his abdomen. _Their_ abdomen.  
The laughter grows louder. It’s mocking. _Cruel._  
“Foolish boy. Do you think you are any different? A part of me resides within you. We are one and the same.”

 _No._ He is a tyrant. A monster. They are nothing alike.

“Was one loss not enough? Shall I show you another?”  
The sword twists in Lucifer’s gut.

“One day, you will learn the true meaning of hatred. That rage you keep bottled away, it will grow to loathe you, just as I have.”

The sword gets torn out of Lucifer’s flesh, and the man cries out in agony. Satan cries with him.

“You will never be happy. A wretched thing like you is incapable of it.”

God’s foot shoves Lucifer to the ground. He skids, and hangs at the edge of the Celestial Realm. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. His brothers should have arrived by now but they…  
There is no one left to save him. To save either of them. In this world, they are all alone.

“Now fall.”  
Wings, once white, are now stained red. Another shove, and they fall and flicker out of sight.

The Celestial Father then turns his gaze towards him. Satan can’t move. The man’s voice is robotic, horrifying.  
“You’re next.”

Satan’s eyes widen. Sheer panic rushes through him. His heart pounds away, but there is nothing good or sweet about it. He wants to run, to leave, to—

God advances towards him. The weapon in his hands is stained with Lucifer’s blood, but all Satan can focus on is how it drips onto the floor.  
_It’s all his fault._

Satan spurred Lucifer on, rallied him into action, and for what? A broken family, scars that will never fade, and a body that he never even wanted. Maybe he deserves this, the feeling of dread that grows within him whenever those footsteps draw closer. This nightmare will end when Satan dies as well. He knows that, and yet…

He can’t bring himself to accept his fate. _He doesn’t want to die._ Even if this isn't real, Satan wants to live. It’s strange. Throughout his entire existence, death was something that had never frightened him, but now…  
Something inside of him has deeply changed. He wants to exist. Not just in general, but as himself. Satan is a mess, a mixture of emotions that he can’t even begin to define. He is a monster. A freak. But he’s also more than that. The progress he’s made towards accepting himself is small, yet he’s proud of what’s there. And no one gets to take that away from him, in the real world, or in this fake one.

So Satan fights. It’s a lost cause, but he screams with his entire being as he struggles against the invisible chains that are holding him in place.  
**_No! I won’t die here! Not to you!_**

The Celestial Father is standing in front of him.

**_No! No! No! No!_**

His smile is full of malice. Satan is unable to remember a time in which it was kind.

Another tug, but this time Satan can feel one of those invisible chains crack. His fingers twitch.

There’s more laughter, and God thrusts the weapon forward. The blade is inches away from Satan’s chest before he wakes up with a scream.

It was just a dream. A nightmare. Satan knows that, but the fear that courses through his body is real, and has yet to leave him. His lungs are gasping for air. Nothing seems to be flowing into them, no matter what he does. He rips the blanket off of his body. There’s no blood, and yet…  
He can still see it. Lucifer’s pained screams ring out in his head.

Immediately he fans his magic out in search of Lucifer and his brothers. Their magical signature rings clear. They’re here. Safe and sound in their rooms. There’s no war, and the Celestial Father can’t hurt him.  
He’s gone.

But the terror remains. Satan is still struggling for air, for something in this room to comfort him. All he has are books that he’s incapable of reading, and a bed that he’s too afraid to leave.

There is one other thing nearby, and Satan grabs it without a second thought. It’s his phone, and with shaky fingers, Satan dials a number that he’s come to know by heart.

Diavolo answers.  
“...Satan?”

There’s a pause. Satan tries to give him a reply, but the words get caught in his throat.

“Is something wrong?”  
The prince's voice is gentle, soothing. Hearing it already makes the words flow a bit easier.

Satan takes a deep, shuddering breath. And this time air actually enters his lungs. He can finally speak.  
“I had a nightmare.”

But even that word isn’t doing it justice. It was so much more than that.  
“It was about the war. I couldn’t—“

A choked sob. The image of his brothers, broken and beaten, is something that will haunt him for a while.  
“I saw everyone die.”

There’s movement on the other side of the phone, and something that sounds like the shuffling of clothes.  
“Do you need me to come and get you?”

His body shivers at the thought. He feels so incredibly cold and fragile. Diavolo’s warm arms, his strong grip, Satan longs for it now more than ever.  
The offer is tempting, but the idea of being separated from his brothers pains him. He needs to feel them nearby, to know that they are safe; that his dream was nothing more than that. 

“No, this is fine. I… don’t want to be far away from them.”

He feels stupid, worrying about their death when it’s impossible for anything to harm them. But even though he’s awake, nothing feels real. Maybe he’s still dreaming, and then he’ll wake up once more and find himself all alone. Satan shakes that thought aside, and focuses on their magical signatures. That is something that cannot be faked.  
His brothers are alive.  
He’s safe in the Devildom.  
He just needs to remember that.

“…Can we just talk?”

“Of course.”  
Diavolo hums.  
“Would you like to hear about the time Barbatos 'accidentally' fed the high council laxatives?”

Satan can already feel some of the tension melt away from his body. The prince is full of ridiculous stories, and he’ll never get tired of hearing them.  
“Yes.”

“Perfect! You see, it all began—“

Satan eagerly absorbs every word that falls out of Diavolo’s mouth. Although he isn’t paying attention to the story itself, not in the strictest sense at least. Bits and pieces of it still flow through his head. It’s an entertaining one, and it isn't long before Satan’s lips are quirking in amusement, despite how awful he feels.

The prince continues, and begins to giggle. Something about that sound lifts a portion of the weight that the nightmare had left behind. The terror has dissipated for the most part. And now all Satan has left are his thoughts.  
None of them are kind.

Diavolo seems to notice the change, or sense that something is off.  
“Satan?”

For a split second, he considers keeping it to himself. To allow his thoughts to fester and consume him as they always do. But with Diavolo, things are different.  
He wants to share them.  
“The last time I dreamt about this was on my birthday over a thousand years ago.”

Diavolo is silent, but he knows that the prince is listening.

“There was a party, with balloons and everything. It was cat themed, if I remember correctly. Most of them usually are.  
Everything was fine. They got me their usual gifts, and threw the same party that they always did. But on that day, there was a star shower.”

It happened ages ago, yet it still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“It wasn’t the typical one either. There was a new moon that day, and it caused the rain to glow in a way that it hadn’t before. They called it a star shower, but it was so much more than a bunch of brightly colored rain. It made the entire sky glimmer. Instead of constellations, you had the equivalent of galaxies. That’s when they said her name.  
‘Lilith would have loved this.’  
I don’t remember who said it, but everyone agreed.  
They talked about her, and laughed as they shared memories of their time together in Celestial Realm.  
But I couldn’t.  
None of my memories are happy.

...And ever since then, every year, they always bring her up. It’s my birthday, yet they’ve never wanted to celebrate it with me. Not truly at least.  
They try their best. I know they do. But even then, no matter what, there’s a part of them that’s always sad.”

Satan sighs.  
“I suppose I can’t blame them. She’s someone worth missing.”

Lilith was everything that he wasn’t. A kind smile. Gentle laughter. No matter what happened, she was always optimistic. Hope was something that she thrived on, and passed down onto his brothers. As long as she was around, they were _happy_. Even Satan wasn’t immune to her charm. 

Yet unlike his brothers, his memories of her aren’t all sweet and fuzzy. They are tainted by Lucifer’s feelings, by his bitterness and doubt, and the rage that it created within him. So what’s left?

In some ways, Satan views Lilith as his sister. But in others… she’s _nothing_. Just another sheep among the Celestial Father’s flock. Another casualty of **his** war.

His birthday marks the anniversary of her death. So perhaps it’s only normal that they bring her up. And in between their mournful smiles and bittersweet laughter, Satan feels alone.

What does he bring to the table?  
What can he offer to his brothers to make them better, to ease their worries?

There’s nothing. Satan is a monster after all. How can he give them something that he’s unable to create?  
And as his brothers continue to miss her, he can’t help but wonder…  
If they could trade him away, would they?

If it meant bringing her back, would they have Satan die in her stead? And would his death be just as sad? Or would they forget him, just as they’ve forgotten the millions of others that have died alongside her?

...The answer isn’t so clear-cut. Perhaps that’s why the Celestial War continues to haunt him as well. It is the reason he exists, but is he even worth it?

“...Do you think they would have been happier if they had Lilith instead?”

Diavolo doesn’t even take the time to think it over.  
“No.”

His response should have been expected, and in some ways it is, but it still manages to take Satan by surprise. It’s difficult to believe.  
Everyone would be better off without him. But of course, Diavolo refuses to leave it there. A short and simple answer is never enough.

“The bond you share with your brothers is deep, and always has been. The seven of you are more than just a team. You're a family.  
Never doubt that they love you.”

Perhaps Diavolo is right. There’s no doubt that his brothers care for him. That he’s a part of this little family that the seven of them have created for themselves.

But there’s one key thing that Diavolo’s overlooking.  
“...They loved her too.”

And therein lies the problem. It’s not a matter of being loved, but of being chosen. No one would ever choose him. Out of the millions of beings in existence, who would want to have Satan instead? When they could have someone kinder? Someone without the baggage that defines his entire existence.

Diavolo interrupts his train of thought.  
“I have never had the pleasure of meeting Lilith myself. Not truly at least. But you should never compare yourself to her.”

A pause. Diavolo’s voice grows softer.  
“Because you are impossibly special my dear. And you cannot be replaced.”

“If anything I’m too special. It’s why—“  
It’s why people get hurt, why he’s a danger to those around him. Satan is too weird. Too strange. His brothers had to work hard to get him to where he is today. They are the reason he’s not prowling around in the woods like a wild predator.  
Yet Satan has given them nothing in return.  
...They would never have had to go through any of that with Lilith. She was normal. Nice. Not a freak, and not a monster.  
“They would be happier with someone else.”

“No. I’m afraid that’s impossible.”  
The prince’s voice sounds stern, angry almost.  
_Why is that?_  
Satan doesn’t have to wait long before the answer is given to him.  
“How could the world be happy if you aren’t in it?”

 _Oh right. It’s because Diavolo cares about him._ Satan’s heart flutters, and he can feel his cheeks begin to flush, but Diavolo still has more to say.

“You are loved, Satan. Despite what you may think, and despite what your nightmares have told you. Everyone in that house adores you.”  
There’s a brief pause, as if the prince is working up the courage to say something else. He finds it, apparently. And that extra sentence manages to chase all of Satan’s doubts away.  
“As do I.”

 _Ah._  
Diavolo adores him.  
That changes things, doesn’t it?  
Butterflies swirl in his stomach. That revelation plays in his head over and over again.  
Why does it make him feel so weird?  
Diavolo cares for everyone after all. That’s just who he is. Yet Satan can feel himself becoming a bit more confident, a bit more secure, with his own existence. He doesn’t want to die, and that’s okay. There’s no need to feel guilty about it. Because despite everything, Diavolo adores **him**.  
And for some reason, that’s exactly what he needed to hear.

“Thank you. I—“  
_I adore you too._

The words never make it past Satan’s lips. No, there’s something more important that needs to be said. It’s difficult, and frightening, but he manages to string the sentence together. Partially at least.

“I know I said I didn’t want you to come and get me but—“

Satan’s voice trails off as he picks up a discarded blanket and tugs it around himself. This nightmare isn’t new, nor are any of these negative thoughts. Yet, the desire to reach out to someone is. It’s strange. Throughout his entire life, he had handled all of his problems on his own. But now, more than anything, he wants to be held. To _feel_ Diavolo’s body against him.  
A phone call isn’t enough.

The prince seems to understand.  
“Do you want me to come to you?”

Satan has never wanted anything more.  
“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be right there.”

~+~+

Diavolo’s teleports himself into Satan’s room, and immediately pulls him in for a hug. As soon as the prince’s arms wrap around him, he feels safe. Protected. Melting into it is one of the easiest things that Satan has ever done.

Not even a minute has passed, yet he doesn’t want Diavolo to leave. Something about the prince’s presence is soothing. Important. Perhaps it has something to do with the trust that the two of them have built, or the sheer amount of warmth that Diavolo provides. But the world seems brighter, now that they’re together.

His grip around Diavolo’s waist tightens. The nightmare still lurks around the corner of his mind. One wrong step, one misplaced word, and it will consume him once more. The anxiety remains. Shadows. The flicker of light from one of his candles. How is he supposed to sleep, when the leftover fear is keeping him awake? When there’s a chance that he could fall into that dream once more?

Diavolo rubs circles along his back, and softly coos into his ear.  
“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here.”

That’s right, he’s not alone. The most powerful demon in the Devildom is here, and he will protect Satan and his brothers. The Celestial Realm can’t touch them.  
They’re safe.

Diavolo’s embrace remains. Satan allows him to gently guide the two of them into bed. They fall onto the mattress, and the prince holds him against his chest. His plan is obvious.  
Diavolo wants them to sleep together.

Satan isn’t opposed to the idea, especially after the dream he just had. The idea of falling asleep once more frightens him, but with Diavolo…  
He feels like he can do it. Or is brave enough to try at least. 

It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable. Diavolo uses his magic to drape a blanket across them both, and then nuzzles into the back of Satan’s neck.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gone before any of your brothers wake up.”

...He had completely forgotten about that. The last thing they need is another repeat of what happened with Mammon. But Satan is willing to take that risk, especially if it lets him feel this warm, this safe. Besides, Diavolo is being careful enough for the both of them.  
No one is ever going to find out.  
Well… no one else at least.

There’s a word for this, isn’t there? Someone who watches over you, and seeks to protect you from all harm. It takes a minute or two, but then it finally hits him.  
A guardian Angel. That’s what Diavolo is.

It's obviously a metaphor though. No one from the Celestial Realm would ever give him the time of day, especially someone like Diavolo, but this is better. He feels happier here then he ever did back then. Perhaps, given his origin, that doesn’t mean much, but Satan's life has definitely improved since the fall. Unlike his brothers, the Devildom has always been his home. And he has always had Diavolo to look after him. 

The prince might not have been there in person, but even before they had met, the others would always speak of him. He’s excited about your progress, he’s happy to hear that you’re doing well, he’s looking forward to the day that he can finally see you. It was meaningless praise, and simple diplomacy. Yet Satan found himself clinging to it with every ounce of progress that he made. Hope. That was one of the first emotions he had ever felt, other than anger. Somewhere out there was another demon that believed in him, and believed that he could have a future. Diavolo was never obligated to feel that way, they weren’t family after all. 

That's what made those words feel incredibly special. Even though Satan never got to hear them from the prince himself, they always resonated within him. Anger was who he was. But before they had even spoken, Diavolo had given him hope that he could be something more. And lately, Satan has found himself starting to believe in those words.

He’s forgetting his place again. He knows that, and yet he doesn't care. Because right now, a future in which he’s happy with who he is doesn’t seem so out of place.

So he allows himself to dream, if only for a little bit. That for the rest of his life, they can continue to lay next to each other. Satan doesn’t know what his own happy ending would be. He had never considered one. But if he were to think it over…  
Diavolo would definitely be a part of it. And they would have plenty of time to do things like this.

A yawn escapes Satan’s lips. Drinking that watered down potion seems pretty dumb in hindsight. His dreams involving Diavolo weren’t terrible by any means. They were just a reminder of what he couldn’t have. So he would wake up feeling awful and alone. But even then, that was better than the nightmare he had earlier today. And he’s not alone anymore, is he?

No, Diavolo is by his side. His body spooned against Satan’s back. The prince’s warmth consumes him, and everything about this is real. Domestic mornings, a gentle touch, maybe something like that isn’t completely unattainable for someone like him. After all, Diavolo is cuddling up to him by choice. He wants to be here too.

It’s funny. His nightmare wasn’t that long ago, and yet it feels incredibly far away. It’s easy to relax into Diavolo’s embrace, especially when he softly begins humming a song into Satan’s ear. He’s unable to stop himself from chuckling once he recognizes it. It’s from a cat video he had shown him the other day, but this time there are no cats to meow along to it. Then, as if sensing his train of thought, a sleepy little mew leaves Diavolo’s mouth.

_What a dork._

It’s only natural for Satan to softly meow along with him, as the two of them try to recreate that tune. It’s a bit off-kiltered, and their rhythm doesn’t quite line up, but none of that matters. Thanks to Diavolo, he’s finally at peace.

Their meows eventually trickle off into a quiet murmur, as the two of them start to grow more and more tired.  
They curve further into one another, their bodies almost determined to merge together. Satan grabs onto one of Diavolo’s arms, and tugs it further around him. A hum, and then Diavolo pulls him in closer.

Satan lets out a contented sigh. A wave of gratitude, of fondness, rushes over him. 

_I’m glad that he came._  
He feels incredibly drowsy, but it’s important that Diavolo knows that. That the prince understands how grateful Satan is to have him here. His exhausted mind struggles to string the sentence together, but he eventually manages to whisper it against Diavolo’s arm.  
“Mmm, Diavolo?”

An equally sleepy voice greets him in return.  
“Yes?”

“I think I like my dreams better when you’re in them.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and Diavolo’s grip around him tightens. Sleep claims him before anything else is said. So Satan doesn’t hear compliments that are eventually cooed into his ear, or any of the other words that follow. And the only thing Diavolo receives in return is a snore. A chuckle, one full of affection, rumbles in the prince’s chest.  
“Sweet dreams, my dear.”

There’s no response, but Diavolo doesn’t mind. Not at all. In fact, it’s probably for the best. Since Satan is asleep, he doesn’t feel the kiss that’s gently placed on the top of his head. Nor does he hear the message that’s softly whispered against his hair. It’s a secret, one that no one will ever know. 

Although, if anyone were to see how peacefully they looked sleeping in each other's arms, it wouldn’t be hard to guess what it is.

~+~+

Bliss. That’s the first thing Satan feels once he enters the waking world. Diavolo’s arms are wrapped around him, and his back is pressed up against the prince’s chest. It’s warm. Breathtakingly so. Satan wonders if it will ever stop taking him by surprise; if he’ll get used to it one day. Soft and tender feelings, along with a sense of ease... he had never expected to have another morning like this.  
But he isn’t complaining. Not at all.

“Good morning.”  
The words are whispered into his ear. Diavolo’s voice is a low rasp, the man is clearly still half asleep. Although Satan isn’t really faring any better. He’s incredibly tired too.

Did they wake up early? Or does he feel this sleepy because he hasn’t slept that deep in ages? A part of him wants to fall back asleep, but an even larger part of him wants to take advantage of this. The time that they spend together is precious, and yet it never lasts long enough. Besides, Diavolo’s awake now. It would be rude not to greet him in return. So Satan shifts in the prince’s arms in order to get a better look at him.

“Good morning.”

Diavolo’s face softens. His expression is warm, but his eyes are even warmer. They seem to glow with something, although Satan is unable to pin down exactly what it is. It’s some sort of emotion, but other then that…  
Satan is at a loss.

A hand softly begins to card through his hair.  
“Did you sleep well?”

 _Well_ doesn’t even begin to describe it. There were no nightmares, or any other… uncomfortable dreams. The effect that Diavolo’s body provides is akin to the potion that he drank. It seems that the prince is able to keep those thoughts at bay. Or maybe it had to do with that feeling in his chest. Can crushes even do that? 

...It’s hard to say. There isn’t any science behind it, and no one has researched love, or the power it holds. Not that Satan is feeling anything remotely like that. No, of course not. It’s just a simple crush. But still… perhaps it’s something worth looking into. 

Because there’s one fact, a simple piece of information that Satan can’t deny.  
“I sleep best when you’re beside me.”

Yes, maybe a potion was never needed at all. Maybe the solution involves something simpler, something that softly burns inside of him whenever they're together.  
And whatever it is, it kept him warm throughout the entire night.

Diavolo grins at him, and Satan can feel that flame grow even larger. He _wants_ this. Every morning. Every night. To wake up and feel Diavolo’s arms around him, and to be greeted by his smile. None of these thoughts are new, but the desire is stronger than before. 

Perhaps that’s why Satan can’t help but voice them.  
“If it’s possible, could we—“

It doesn’t sound confident. His voice is far too vulnerable, and falters before his sentence can even finish. This was dumb. He should have crushed that thought, and smothered it along with everything else—

“I’d love nothing more.”

... _Oh._

Diavolo continues, although Satan doesn’t hear the next sentence so much as feel it.  
“I’ll lay with you whenever I can.”

It's a promise, one that curls around his chest and leaves him insanely happy. This morning will be just one of many. And Diavolo will always be a part of it. Perhaps it’s silly, but it makes him feel excited for the future, and all of the possibilities that it could hold.

~+~+

They don’t move. Diavolo’s hands lazily trail over his body, with no real destination in mind. It’s nice. Soothing. A quiet purr rumbles within him, and Satan doesn’t even try to contain it. He allows himself to be content, to openly enjoy the affection that’s been given to him. The tranquility is broken once the prince’s fingers brush up against a spot on his stomach. 

Laughter automatically spills from Satan’s mouth. He tries his best to squirm away, but that only causes him to mold himself into Diavolo’s body even further. Diavolo’s fingers begin to move once again, and Satan swats the hand away.  
“That tickles!”

“ **Oh?** ”

... _Shit._  
But it’s too late to take it back now. The damage has already been done. A devious grin stretches across Diavolo’s face, and then he attacks.

Satan shrieks. Laughter pours from his lips as he kicks and writhes in Diavolo’s arms. No one has ever tickled him before. Most demons would be too afraid to even attempt it. But Diavolo has never feared him. Even now, when Satan transforms to try and gain some sort of leverage, the prince doesn’t falter. If anything, it excites him. In the midst of his laughter, Satan doesn’t understand why. At least, until he feels fingertips brush along the tip of his tail.

_Oh.  
He’s ticklish there too._

__

__

_...That’s not good._

Satan tries to squirm away, but it’s no use. The prince’s grip is tight, and he’s showing no mercy. Countering him is hard. He can’t protect both his stomach and his tail, so there’s always something for Diavolo to touch; another thing for him to prove or prod as Satan is reduced to a giggling mess. But he hasn’t given up. Satan knows that he can still make a comeback. It’s just a matter of finding the right opening.

And given how low Diavolo’s guard is, there should be plenty of them. It doesn’t take long for a plan to form in Satan’s head. He stops struggling, and allows Diavolo to think he has the upper hand. More laughter, and then Diavolo grins.

He’s about to say something, a taunt no doubt, but Satan interrupts him with a pounce. The prince had left his stomach completely exposed, allowing Satan to tackle him and pin his hands to the bed with ease. The position is an intimate one, but Satan can’t bring himself to care.  
The tickling has stopped.

Heavy pants leave his mouth, and his cheeks still feel incredibly warm.  
“That’s enough with the touching. ...What am I going to do with you?”

Diavolo laughs. His voice is deep, a low drawl full of _suggestions_.  
“I have a few ideas.”

“Do you now?”  
Satan leans in, their lips inches apart. Their eyes meet, but only for a moment. It would be so easy to close the distance between them. To answer him further with a kiss. The tone of Diavolo’s voice is breathtaking, and Satan already has several ideas running through his head. None of them are chaste.

But Diavolo wouldn’t learn his lesson if he did any of that. So instead, he tilts his head to the side, and purrs in the prince’s ear.  
“So do I.”

With a snippet of his magic, Satan handcuffs Diavolo to the bed. Glowing green energy now ties the prince’s hands to the bedpost, preventing them from moving. So now it’s safe for Satan to remove his hands, and he starts with lightly scratching his claws against Diavolo’s chest.  
_Nothing._  
He resists the urge to pout.

Diavolo barely tugs against one of the restraints, and Satan can see his eyes widen at how much they give. They’re loose and incredibly weak, but the message is clear.

_Don’t move._

It’s fascinating, seeing how much Diavolo’s cheeks redden at the unspoken command. But he obeys. The prince’s body goes slack, and he gives Satan a nod. That gesture causes another purr to spill out of Satan’s throat. Diavolo willingly gave him control of the situation, leaving himself at his mercy. For now at least. Satan doesn’t know how long the prince’s submission is going to last, but he intends to utilize every second of it.

His hands start trailing over Diavolo’s body, memorizing every groove and dip. The man really is strong. Satan can feel his muscles flex underneath his touch, but other than that there’s no visible reaction.  
_Hmm. He’ll have to try harder then._

The last time he did something like this was back at the ball, and even then it was limited to the prince’s horns and wings. But now there’s nothing holding him back. His hands can wander wherever they please. So Satan lets himself explore.

From far away, Diavolo appears to be perfect. Pristine. His body is hidden underneath layers of clothing, and his demonic form is decorated in gold and gems. He is a piece of art, made to be looked at, but never touched. Although Satan still finds him beautiful, he can’t bring himself to agree.

The imperfections are there. There are several moles along his torso, and one of his breasts is a bit bigger than the other. A painting. A statue. None of that does him justice. He isn’t a work of art, but a person. One who deserves to feel cherished and loved. 

He tenderly brushes a strand of Diavolo’s hair aside, and tucks it behind the prince’s ear. A chuckle leaves Diavolo’s lips, although it sounds rather bitter.  
“Disappointed?”

Of what? The fact that he has flaws? That he wasn’t born perfect?  
Satan frowns.  
“Of course not. Every inch of you is beautiful.”

Diavolo immediately begins to blush.  
“Ah.” His eyes flicker to the side, and he lets out an awkward cough.  
“Those are bold words, but you haven’t seen every inch.”

That’s true. Although Diavolo has been without clothes around him before, Satan had never allowed himself to look. To fully take in the view that had been offered to him. Diavolo is still dressed, technically. Boxers count. His heart pounds at the idea. A whirlwind of emotions rush through him. Even though Satan struggles to identify each and every one, fear and disgust are nowhere to be found.

“...Do you want me to?”

Diavolo’s eyes widen, and his brain seems to short circuit entirely.  
“I—“

But Satan’s hands haven’t stopped moving. Before the prince can finish his sentence, Satan’s fingers gloss over a spot on his armpit. His body quivers, and Satan grins. He hasn't forgotten about getting revenge after all.

Whatever _this_ is can wait. Fulfilling the rest of his plan is far more important. And he has finally found Diavolo’s weakness. 

He quickly begins assaulting that point with feather light touches. The restraints are immediately broken with the first peel of laughter that leaves Diavolo’s lips. The princes arms fail about, as he desperately struggles and squirms to get away from him.  
But Satan still has him pinned, his body straddling Diavolo’s torso.

He’s unable to stop himself from snickering at Diavolo’s predicament.  
Revenge never tasted so sweet.

The prince then gives up on getting away, and decides to retaliate. He grabs onto Satan’s arms in an attempt to restrain him, but Satan’s tail brushes up against that spot once more, causing him to lose his grip with a shriek.  
“You little sneak!”

Satan laughs in response, and their battle begins anew.

Laughter echoes throughout the room. Some of it is due to being tickled. Neither one of them ever seems to hold the advantage. There’s a lot of tossing and turning. Positions are flipped, pillows are thrown, and Satan’s bed remains surprisingly intact. But the laughter also stems from how much fun they’re having. The competition. The adrenaline. Nothing can compare.

Diavolo falters, and this time it’s Satan’s turn to pin him to the bed. He looks down at the prince and grins.  
“Do you yield?”

The prince’s smile is brilliant, and his answer is one that Satan expects. One that hasn’t changed.  
“Never!”

More laughter, and then Satan finds himself leaning in.  
An alarm goes off before their lips can touch, the sound blaring across the room. The two of them spring apart. Diavolo flails as he falls off of the bed, and Satan immediately makes his way towards the offending clock. A part of him wants to crush it, as if that’ll also make time itself stand still. It doesn’t take long for him to turn it off, but the moment is ruined.  
_It’s already morning._

Diavolo sighs.  
“I should leave.”

Satan doesn’t want him to. He wants to hang out with him longer, to hold onto him longer. There isn’t enough time. After their little tickle match, they could read together. And there’s this new book that’s Satan’s been dying to talk to him about—  
But he can’t. Their time together is limited.  
Those kinds of things have to wait.

Diavolo has his duties to attend to after all, and Satan has his nosy brothers. They can’t afford to get caught. There would be too many questions, none of which Satan knows the answer to. And Diavolo’s work is far more important. 

Yet, Satan can’t help but loathe the alarm clock in his hand. If only the mornings weren’t so short. There are millions of things that he wants to do, especially now that Diavolo will be visiting him more often. But then again, that just gives him something to look forward to in the future.

He hears the door knob turn, and rushes over to grab Diavolo’s arm.  
“Wait, before you go…”  
A pause. He tilts his head up, and their eyes meet.  
“Thank you. For agreeing to this.”

Diavolo’s gaze softens.  
“There’s no need. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

Satan lets his hand fall, and Diavolo reaches out to cup his cheek.  
“After all, You’re not the only one benefiting from this arrangement.”

The prince's next sentence is a confession, one that leaves him blushing.  
“I sleep best when you’re beside me too.”

It’s mutual. The comfort that they’ve found with one another, and the safety that they’ve created. They both have something to gain by being in each other's arms, although Satan can’t pin down exactly what it is. But that doesn’t matter. His heart is happy, and apparently it will be happy for many mornings to come.

They wave goodbye, and once Diavolo leaves, Satan walks over to what remains of his watered down potion. The vial is almost full. There’s enough of it left to last him for several more months. But Satan is no longer interested in a dreamless sleep. The nightmares aren’t worth it.

And should he have to face another one, Diavolo will be by his side. Something about that makes him feel brave, like he’ll be able to handle whatever his brain comes up with. The prince’s optimism must be contagious. Because Satan takes that vial off of his shelf, and throws it away.

He doesn’t need it. After all, he has something better now. A cure that cannot be created by magic or alchemy. It’s hope. And thanks to Diavolo, he finds himself starting to believe in it once more.


	6. Chapter 6

Satan’s day doesn’t begin with classes. They’ve been cancelled actually, all in preparation for the next event that’s in store: Physical Examinations

Once a year, every single one of RAD’s students is challenged by the prince himself in order to prove that they have what it takes to survive in the Devildom. That they can defend themselves should anyone become… angry that they’ve chosen to attend this school. Although the vast majority of the population approves of it (or is at least neutral towards the whole thing), there are still a few demons that protest RAD’s creation, and want things to go back to the old ways.

Satan wasn’t around at that time, nor were any of his brothers. But based on his research alone, it wasn’t pretty. Battles. Debates. In the end, Diavolo emerged victorious. RAD exists, and will continue to thrive for quite some time, but the safety of its students cannot be guaranteed. That's what makes the physical examination essential; especially for lower ranking demons, who would make easier targets. Yet there are never any groans or complaints. In fact, everyone loves it. 

There’s hype. Glow sticks. Excited chatter. The exam itself changes, cycling through a multitude of challenges chosen by Diavolo himself. Some of the students even compete amongst themselves to see who’ll achieve the highest score. Officially, this event is labeled as a test. But everyone knows that it’s something more than that.  
It’s a break. A challenge. Instead of classes, they get to prepare for whatever shenanigans Diavolo throws their way.

Satan is already looking forward to it, as he does every year. It’s incredibly fun, being able to run around with his claws and fangs bared. He still has to keep himself contained of course, but it’s the one time of the year that he can cast some of those pretenses aside. 

He walks through the halls and arrives at his destination. The announcement board is huge, spanning across an entire wall. A long singular piece of parchment covers most of it. Once Satan is able to read it, his eyes widen in shock.  
For some reason, this year is different.

The test itself is a duel, one that they’ve had before. But it wasn’t supposed to be next. The cycle is broken. The pattern that Diavolo held ever since this school's creation has been ruined.

“Strange, isn’t it?”

The voice is familiar, and Satan smothers the groan that threatens to leave his lips once he recognizes who it is. Of course, it had to be Solomon.

“I haven’t been here for long, yet I can already tell that this is a big deal. After over a millennia of doing the exact same thing, Lord Diavolo changed it up out of nowhere. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“Not particularly.”

Satan wishes that he could gain some distance in between them, but the list is long, as are the rules. It’ll take awhile for him to go over it all.  
He’ll have to put up with Solomon until then.

The sorcerer grins.  
“I suppose I arrived at the perfect time! We can read over them together.”

_Great._

He nudges Satan’s shoulder.  
“You can go ahead and start.”

“Read it yourself! I’m not going to—“

“Oh, I’m not asking you to repeat it word for word. Even a summary would do.”

“...Fine.”

The quicker he gets this over with, the sooner Solomon will leave. Besides, summarizing it isn’t hard. Satan has taken this test many times before. They all have actually; save for their one and only exchange student, who’s already made himself comfortable.  
...He doesn’t understand what Lucifer sees in him.

But nevertheless, he gives Solomon all of the information that he needs.  
“It’s a duel, essentially. You have to challenge Diavolo in one on one combat and survive. Weapons are allowed, and will be provided for you. Whatever weapon you pick will also be given to Diavolo.”

“Any tips?”

“No. The weapon you wield doesn’t matter. Diavolo is said to be equally proficient in them all.”

“How impressive. And judging by all of the different time frames, he won’t be getting a break.”

“He doesn’t need them, trust me.”

“You know from experience?”

Yes, Satan has felt and seen Diavolo’s magic firsthand. It swirled around his own, it’s strength and power unparalleled as it delicately tangled with his own. All in order to strengthen wards that Diavolo had created himself. And that’s not even counting all of the impossible things that the prince has already done. An island with a fake sun. A mountain retreat where the snow never melts. Diavolo has accomplished the impossible time and time again.  
There is no one here in RAD that can hurt him.

Summarizing all of that is harder, mainly because his feelings are starting to get in the way, and he could actually go on for even longer. Is it normal; to want to coo and fawn over someone like this?  
...Do people with crushes do that too?  
Satan doesn’t know. Yet he manages to make himself sound vaguely disinterested instead.

“Diavolo is extraordinary. No one in RAD can compare.”

There’s an amused twinkle to Solomon’s eye.  
“That’s high praise.”

“He deserves it.”

“I suppose he does.”

A beat of silence. They continue looking over the rules once more, until Solomon breaks it with a question.  
“So how does the order work?”

Satan’s finger begins skimming over the parchment.  
“Time varies depending on your strength and position. Although you are humanity’s strongest sorcerer, you are still just a human. So your test is only going to be two minutes long.”

Satan’s finger stops at Solomon's name, which is located in the middle.  
“That’s why you’re here. It’s organised by the length of your exam.”

“And where are you?”

“My brothers and I are near the end.”

The two of them walk towards the area in question, and Satan gestures to the same spot that he’s always been in. The order never changes.  
“I’m here. The fourth one from the bottom.”

Solomon raises his brow.  
“That’s Levi.”

...What?

Satan spins his body around, looking over the list in question. Solomon is right. Their positions have changed. All of the other students are in the same exact spot from before. But he and his brothers have been switched around.  
For the first time in RAD’s history, the physical examination has changed.  
...Satan doesn’t know why Diavolo would even bother doing something like this. What was wrong with the way things were before?  
Why was this change necessary?

Solomon chuckles.  
“The exam really is strange this year, isn’t it? Aside from this, it's also the wrong challenge altogether. We should have done the labyrinth one instead, but now Diavolo’s skipped over that entirely.”

“Perhaps he felt like doing something different.”

“No. It’s a little too perfect, don’t you think? 

The sorcerer is clearly insinuating something. Satan frowns. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The conversation is becoming uncomfortable. Solomon’s implications are already getting to him. There’s nothing there. Diavolo’s reasons are his own, and don’t have anything to do with him. Yet his heart skips a beat.  
He needs to leave.

So with that, Satan turns around and walks away without even saying goodbye. Footsteps follow after him. He quickly picks up the pace, but Solomon refuses to be left behind. The human is by his side once more.

“Then allow me to enlighten you. Unlike the other events, the duels occur on a set schedule. So no matter what, your time with Diavolo is limited, because he has to test the other students. But if you were to go last... then you would theoretically have all of the time in the world, wouldn’t you?”

Satan’s eyes widen for a split second, before he schools his expression into something more neutral. That had completely slipped his mind, but it’s true. With these new changes, he and Diavolo will have an unlimited amount of time to hang together.  
All alone.  
Just the two of them.

Solomon raises his brow.  
“And yet you seem okay with that. I wonder, does it make you happy, knowing that he wants to spend additional time with you?”

It’s embarrassing; how quickly the word ‘yes’ pops into his head. But Satan’s expression gives away nothing.  
“I don’t care. Diavolo can do whatever he wants.”

“And the fact that he chose you, out of everyone?”

“Means nothing. It’s just a coincidence that I’m going last.”

Solomon shrugs.  
“Perhaps. I suppose we’ll never know. Though I can’t help but wonder… what do you want it to be?”

His tone, that condescending smirk. Satan’s stomach sinks. No… there’s no way that Solomon knows.  
He’s done nothing to allude to the fact that he has a crush on Diavolo. And even then, the sorcerer is always full of outlandish ideas. None of his questions ever mean anything, and over half of them are asked on a whim. It’s what makes him so infuriating.

Satan growls.  
“What are you implying?”

An angelic grin paints Solomon’s face, although Satan can tell right away that it’s incredibly fake.  
“Nothing. Just testing another theory. Don’t mind me.”

_There’s no need to tell him twice._

But just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, Lucifer appears at the end of the hallway, walking towards them. Satan can’t run away in time. Solomon remains practically glued to his side, and all of the other directions lead to a dead end.  
He’s trapped.

Lucifer’s gaze is as cold as always, though Satan refuses to meet it. He really isn’t in the mood to deal with this right now. A part of him hopes that Lucifer is only here for Solomon, and that the two of them can go their separate ways without even uttering a word to one another. But the rest of him is far more realistic.  
They’re going to have a _talk._

Lucifer addresses the human with a frown.  
“Solomon, I believe you’re needed elsewhere.”

“Am I?”

He rolls his eyes.  
“Yes. Asmo wants you. It’s urgent.”

Solomon snickers.  
“Ah, of course. How could I forget?  
Thank you for reminding me, _Luci_. I guess I’ll be on my way.”

He winks, and starts to leave with a flourish of his cloak, but Satan grabs onto his arm.

It doesn’t matter that it’s Solomon. Anyone is better than Lucifer. And judging by the look on his face, this conversation is going to be awful, Satan can tell.  
He’d give anything not to have it.  
“Don’t you dare leave me alone with him.”

But Solomon just shrugs him off.  
“Sorry, you know what they say. Duty calls.”

And then he’s gone, teleported via magic. If Satan was stronger than Lucifer, he’d be able to do the same. But unfortunately for him, the demon wants him there.  
Unlike Solomon, he doesn’t have permission to leave, so his interrogation begins.

“Satan, a word?”

“You just said one.”

A growl. Lucifer’s next words are laced with frustration.  
“Fine. If you’re going to be like that—“

With the wave of his hand, Satan is shoved into one of the nearby classrooms. The door immediately slams shut behind him. At first, the room is empty. Then the light above him begins to flicker and hiss before turning off altogether. The darkness doesn’t last of course. It’s only there for a second. Once everything turns back on, a lone figure stands in the room with him, one that Satan had tried to escape.

A scowl paints Lucifer’s face. He has yet to say anything, but Satan already feels reprimanded. Not that it matters. He didn’t do anything wrong. And Lucifer being in a bad mood isn’t exactly new. But the fact that he pulled him aside is concerning.  
Satan is clearly in trouble.

He frowns, racking his mind for any pranks that he had forgotten, or things that he could have destroyed. But he can’t think of anything. So why is Lucifer here?

And then it hits him. Satan immediately feels the pit of his stomach sink. There’s only one thing Lucifer that could lecture him about, something that he would take seriously enough to lock the two of them in a room together. Satan muffles the curse that threatens to leave his lips. He had thought that they were being subtle.

Lucifer’s glare says otherwise. He pulls a piece of material out of his pocket, and slams it on a nearby desk. Satan pales once he recognizes it.  
A white tie, complete with a pin that never gets removed. Diavolo had forgotten it.

Lucifer snaps his fingers, and a shirt falls down on top of it. One that’s pure black, and far too big to fit any of them. The golden strands of hair that are stuck to its surface stick out.  
...That one’s all on him. He’d been planning on returning it to Diavolo eventually, but the prince’s shirt is comfy. So he _might_ have worn it once or twice. But that’s besides the point.

His internal panic doesn’t last long. Instead, there’s only anger. Satan snarls, “You were in my room?”

“I stopped by to borrow one of your books, only to find this.”

“That’s my room! You can’t just go barging in there without—“

Lucifer pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.  
“Your door was unlocked, and any one of us could have walked in. Both of those items were in plain sight. **You didn’t even make an attempt to hide them.** What if it had been Asmo or Levi instead? They can’t keep a secret to save their lives. Everyone in the Devildom would have found out that you’ve—“

“That I’ve what?”

There’s a pause. A thick layer of tension blankets the room as they size each other up. The topic is there, but it’s one that they’re dancing around. If Satan had his way, they’d never actually reach it.  
But Lucifer, like always, has to ruin everything.

“I place wards of my own around the House of Lamentation. I **know** Lord Diavolo has been visiting you at night. And you aren’t leaving this room until you tell me **exactly** what’s going on.”

This whole conversation is already pointless. Lucifer has all of the evidence he needs, and Satan will definitely be more careful about it in the future, if only to avoid seeing Lucifer’s face again.  
There’s nothing else for them to talk about.

“Nothing’s going on. We’ve just been sleeping together.”

Lucifer sputters, and his face turns an interesting shade of red. If Satan was in a better mood, he’d find it hilarious.  
“You’ve **_what?_** ”

“Did I stutter?”

“You can’t just _sleep_ with Diavolo.”

“I think you’ll find that I definitely can.”

It’s not like it’s hard or anything. Anyone could do it. But they’ve chosen each other. That thought makes him feel a tiny bit softer, underneath all of the rage. At least, until Lucifer starts speaking again.  
Even his voice is grating. Satan has been hearing it far too often.

“Satan, he’s—“

“What? Using me? Because there’s no way he’d want to be around me otherwise?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

_Liar._  
With Lucifer, everyone always has some ulterior motive. Nothing’s ever simple. All of his warnings are laced with paranoia and accusations. If it was just some simple concern, then he would never have brought it up to begin with. 

“Then what was it? Are you afraid that I’m going to hurt him? That I’ll rip out his throat one day?”

“No. I know you’re perfectly capable of controlling yourself. What I’m afraid of is you getting hurt.”

What a joke. Lucifer is masquerading this insult as a gesture of concern, but Satan is able to see through it with ease. His “older brother” believes that he’s too “delicate” to be hanging out with Diavolo.  
“So you think I’m weak.”

Lucifer frowns.  
“I never said that. I’m not worried about you physically getting hurt. In the time that I’ve known him, Diavolo has never been good at considering the feelings of other people. He isn’t an ideal person to be entering a relationship with.”

“You don’t get to determine that. And you know what, he’s made me happy. So I don’t give a damn about what you think.”

“...Has he truly been good to you?”

“Obviously. Why does it matter?”

“Because I care about you.”

_No._ Saying things like that ruins their dynamic even further. Lucifer is supposed to hate him. Satan is a monster representing everything that he tried to throw away. So why is he saying things like that?  
And why does that make him feel… happy?  
He’s _angry_ right now. Lucifer barged into his room, and once again stuck his nose somewhere that it doesn’t belong.

_I care about you._  
...How annoying.

A pause, and then Lucifer sighs, his gaze full of nothing but concern.  
“I know he’s the prince, but you don’t have to cater to his every whim. If he ever forces himself on you, or does anything to make you uncomfortable—“

“He won't. I always want him.”

Rank never had anything to do with it, and Satan kneels before no one. Their wants and desires just happened to align. Besides, Diavolo’s never made him uncomfortable.  
…Well, not in the way Lucifer is implying at least. 

The air of the room has changed. It’s no longer stifling and full of anger. No, it’s still. Quiet. There’s an awkwardness to it, one that stretches across the entire area. Things were easier when they didn’t talk, or when they simply bickered with one another. With a single sentence, Lucifer had to go and complicate it all.  
Where do they go from here?  
How are they supposed to navigate this new part of their dynamic?

There’s a new look on Lucifer’s face now. It’s one that Satan has never seen before. Acceptance.

“Do the two of you have a safe word?”

_What a strange question._  
“Why would we need one?”

“So he’s being gentle with you at least. I suppose that’s good.”

_How could you be rough with cuddling?_  
Is he worried that Satan is going to get crushed?  
…How would unsafe cuddling even work? Is it a clothing thing? It’s true that the material might come into play, given that some clothing fibers are more coarse—

“Are you using protection?”

_… **What?**  
What is he…?_

“I know none of us ever spoke with you at length about it, but I think it’s important that you know—“

No. _This isn’t happening. Lucifer isn’t actually going to lecture him about—_

“Even demons, including those as strong as Diavolo, are not immune to—“

Satan’s face turns a bright shade of red, and he shrieks, “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Well, if you would let me explain—“

“I was being literal! We’re literally just sleeping!”

The implication alone is causing his brain to short circuit. _Him and Diavolo… doing..._  
“Why would you ever think— we aren’t—the stupidity of it all— he’s not even my type—“

Satan scrambles for words. He finds many of them. Far too many. They spill out of his mouth in a jumble of nonsense. He’s overheating. His mind pictures it all with ease. Diavolo’s body. The tangling of sheets. Laughter. Intimacy. Before, his fantasies had always ended. But now they continue, going beyond anything he had considered before.

This is too much. He can’t. _They can’t—_

“Satan.”

Lucifer’s voice causes all of Satan’s thoughts and fantasies to come to a halt. Yet the panic remains.  
“What?!”

“Do you really mean to tell me that you and Lord Diavolo aren’t together, in any capacity?”

Satan sighs, and the tension leaves his shoulders. That question was exactly what he needed to hear. Because unlike all of the stuff from before, he already knows the answer to this. Well, for the most part at least.  
“Of course we aren’t. We’re just…”

_...What are they, exactly?_  
Satan still doesn’t know how to define his relationship with Diavolo. The line gets more blurred with each passing day. What they have isn’t normal, but he doesn’t have anything else to compare it to. It’s something that can’t be explained, in this language, or in any of the other ones that exist.  
They are simply themselves. But there’s one thing that’s absolutely clear, something that Lucifer needs to understand.

“It’s completely platonic, and it’s none of your business.”

Yes, Satan’s feelings aren’t returned. In all of their interactions, there’s never been any romance intent behind it. Diavolo would never feel that way towards him after all. They’re simply just being friendly with one another. But for some reason Lucifer looks confused, as if Satan had just told him to solve an incredibly complex math problem.  
...Is there something he’s not getting?

No. That doesn’t matter. Satan is done. With both this conversation and with Lucifer. His interrogation is finished, so there’s no reason for him to linger. 

Yet Lucifer calls out to him when he turns away.  
“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. And then I’m going to forget that this conversation ever happened.”

Lucifer grabs onto his arm, rooting him in place  
“You're not going anywhere. This is still information that you need to know.”

What a joke. Satan doesn’t need to know about the birds and the bees, or whatever else Lucifer is trying to tell him. He’s studied everything after all, even the more… lewd subjects.  
“I’ve read books.”

“Books can’t teach you everything.”

A pause. Lucifer made a valid point, as much as Satan hates to admit it. Knowing something is incredibly different from actually performing it. There are some things that only experience can teach you, and that isn’t written in some sort of book.  
It’s advice that is given by someone else.

Lucifer let’s go of his arm.  
“I won’t mention Diavolo’s name.”

It’s an olive branch, one that Satan finds himself reluctantly accepting.  
“Fine.”

He looks up at Lucifer with a scowl.  
“But if you try to demonstrate _anything_ to me on a phallic shaped object I’ll kill you.”

A chuckle, and then a new discussion begins. One without shouting or violence. At this moment, they aren’t adversaries or reluctant brothers. No, instead they’re teacher and student. Or, if someone wanted to be more accurate, father and son.

~+~+

The conversation wasn’t as… mortifying as Satan had expected, but it’s still not one he cares to repeat ever again. _Who does Lucifer think he is?_

Satan isn’t some sort of child that needs to have his hand held, nor is he some innocent little flower that needs to be protected. Lucifer, as always, offered nothing comforting or useful. Instead, he gave him information that will never be relevant, and a desire to punch the nearest wall.  
After all, Diavolo would never want to be intimate with him in the first place.  
No one ever has.

Satan had tried, briefly, in the past. But it always amounted to nothing. His partner would flinch as soon as he transformed, or they would shove him away once they heard his growls. No matter what, he couldn’t escape his reputation. And no one wanted to be intimate with the Avatar of Wrath.

But that never really bothered him. He wasn’t like Asmo, or the rest of his brothers. Sex was never something that he needed, or even really wanted half the time, so he brushed it all aside. Casual relationships, serious ones, it didn’t matter. There was no sense in being with someone who didn’t trust him, or thought that they’re going to die when he so much as placed a hand on them. And at the end of the day, he always felt more content reading a book or petting a cat. So there was never any need to look for a companion. He was perfectly fine with being alone.

But now that’s changed. Diavolo has wormed his way into his heart, and a part of Satan can’t help but want him. The intimacy. The tenderness. What would it be like, to have someone want to touch you? To have them lean into your touch, instead of flinching away?

It’s not a thought that he would typically entertain, but Diavolo is special. Different. Satan trusts him. So the desire doesn’t die. It simply simmers in the back of his mind. Every time they touch, whenever they laugh and joke, there’s a tiny voice inside of him that can’t help but wonder…

_Does he love me?_

He usually silences it. That one little word makes him incredibly anxious, and Diavolo’s answer is clear. It always has been. Yet for some reason, he continues to hope for something more. That the prince’s view of him would never waver, no matter what. So Satan could confess that he had a crush on him, and then Diavolo would grin as he… 

Satan shoves that fantasy away. The only reason Diavolo isn’t afraid of him is because they haven’t torn down any of those barriers. No, the most they’ve ever done is cuddle. Sex is different. With it comes vulnerability, and an incredible amount of trust. Things that Diavolo would never show him. Society has told Satan time and time again that he’s unlovable, that he’ll never be worthy of someone’s affections. And that’s not going to change.

His relationship with Diavolo is platonic, as it should be. He’s incapable of ever being anything more, no matter what feelings Diavolo instills within him, or what he dreams about at night. The prince deserves someone better. He always has.  
...Sometimes Satan forgets that.

It’s dangerous. He knows that he would only ever hurt Diavolo in the long run. His body wasn’t made to be soft and gentle. Satan is nothing but sharp ridges and fangs. A being that’s not only incapable of love, but doesn’t know how to give it. 

Books. The occasional video. If he gained anything from his conversation with Lucifer, it’s that fiction and reality are two separate things. There are so many _steps_ , and thousands of different ways to do it.  
But no matter what, there was one thing that was required throughout it all: a delicate touch.

Satan… can’t do that.

He clenches his fist, and frowns once he feels the palm of his hands begin to sting. Scratches. A tiny pinprick of blood. His nails are too long. In a brief moment of anger, Satan wishes that he could rip them off, that he was born more normal and sweet. Instead, he heads to his room without even bothering to heal himself. The pain serves as a reminder of who he is.

~+~+

Satan hasn’t transformed, yet his nails are already starting to taper off into a point. So he has no choice but to file them down before they become worse. The last thing he needs is another pair of claws. Keeping himself in check isn’t exactly hard, but it’s a process that’s never ending. The form that he’s in right now is fragile, another mask that could fall away with a single crack. And no matter what he does, those cracks always begin to appear over time. So Satan is forced to repair them.

Today, that means filing them down to look more dull. More normal. Like his brothers, and all of the other students at RAD. Although, given the exam he has coming up, maybe he should keep them. He wouldn’t have even to transform in that case. In every guise that he’s in, Satan is dangerous. Perhaps it would do Diavolo well to remember that.

But that wouldn’t work. No matter what, the prince is always comfortable around him. It’s caused Satan to lower his guard as well. Because when Diavolo smiles at him like that, when he casually intertwines their fingers as he talks about his day, Satan forgets that he has to be careful. That he’s anything other than a guy with a crush. And sometimes, it doesn’t even feel so unrequited. 

No, when Diavolo holds him against his chest, it’s easy to believe that the prince’s declarations could be romantic. That when he says _‘I adore you’_ he means it with his entire soul. But Satan knows that it’s impossible. Despite all of his outrageous flirting, Diavolo’s feelings towards him are friendly in nature.  
His remarks are just that. It’s simply a joke that’s shared in between the two of them, but it’s one that’s never made with any ill intent. No, if anything, it’s actually rather enjoyable. The prince’s flirting makes him feel a little less insecure about who he is; even if there aren’t any serious thoughts or feelings involved. 

Yet Satan can’t help but think that they would have kissed by now if he was someone different. If he was a demon born under more normal circumstances, and one who didn’t have a ton of baggage weighing him down. Yes, if Satan was more of his own person, then maybe…  
… just maybe, Diavolo would love him. 

Satan frowns, shakes his head, and gets back to work.  
He goes through multiple files as he squares each and every nail off. But the more of them that are discarded, the more his irritation grows. None of this is fair. Gaining a body should have made everything better. It should have made him different. But he feels like no more of an individual now then he did in the past, and he’s different in all of the wrong ways. 

He’s tried to be happy with himself. He really has. Yet this anger, this hatred, remains glued to his entire being. It’s always been a part of him, and Satan fears that he may never be able to rip it off.  
What if he can’t get better?  
What if this is the one thing that time can never fix?

His eyes sting, but Satan continues to file his nails down. He needs to look like less of a monster. People are more comfortable around him when his nails are dull. So he just has to focus on this; on the methodical side to side motion of the file as he works on piecing together the mask that he’s created. It’s one that he’s worn for his entire life. The persona of a gentleman comes easy to him, yet it no longer feels right.

He’s so much more than that now. Satan can’t define exactly what he is with words, but he knows one thing for sure.  
He’s… better than that. 

The mask that he wore was a lifeless husk, an empty facade that he had never enjoyed. Wearing it used to be second nature to him, but now…  
He doesn’t want to put it back on. Instead, he simply wishes to be himself.

But that’s a terrible idea. His nails are living proof of that. No matter what he tries to define himself as, it doesn’t change who he is at his core, and Satan has never been anything other than rage. Yet he finds himself starting to disagree with that idea altogether.  
It’s possible for him to be defined outside of his anger. He knows that it is. If he just tries harder—  
The file in his hand snaps.

Satan looks over the broken pieces, and a wave of acceptance washes through him. Lucifer’s lecture really was dumb. Diavolo would never want to be with him like that, and even if he did… Satan wouldn’t allow it. He can’t even hold a file. Everything he holds gets shattered or torn. Pages that rip from him turning them too roughly, all because his mind was elsewhere. Cats that scamper away from him because his footsteps were too loud. A pen that gets snapped in half because he was annoyed at someone in class. He doesn’t mean to, and yet… one little slip up is all it takes. 

He can’t afford to do something like that to Diavolo. To have the prince vulnerable and open underneath him, only to be bloodied and bruised. It’s an image that makes him recoil in disgust. Although Diavolo is impossibly strong, that doesn’t mean that he can’t be hurt. That their newfound trust cannot be broken. And if something like that were ever to happen…  
Satan wouldn’t be able to live with himself. So it’s for the best that he keeps his feelings under lock and key. After all, it ensures that Diavolo will be safe, and that their relationship will remain intact. He’d be putting it all in jeopardy otherwise. Because no matter what, Satan doesn’t trust himself to be anything other than a beast.

With a sigh, Satan throws the broken file away, and picks up a new one. He’s been working himself up over nothing. Nothing about his life has been fair, but there are still some good things about it: cats, books, the prince’s smile, the laughter that they share, the feeling of being held. It’s all a part of a list, one that grows each and every day the two of them interact, and everything on it makes him happy. Existing is rough, that’s never going to change, but now he finds that doesn’t regret a second of it. This form is imperfect, just like many of the other ones that he wields. And although he hates it, maybe one day that’ll no longer be the case. He just has to work on shaping it into something that he likes.

Satan doesn’t know what changes he would make, not yet at least. But whatever they are, they will be for him and him alone. And he has plenty of time to think it over. So there’s no need to rush.  
Change is never instant.

He lets out a sigh as he adds the ruined nail file to the pile. That was his last one, but thankfully he’s done. He briefly glances over his work, flexing his fingers in the light. It’s perfect. Each and every nail is squared off and dull, to the point where he wouldn’t even be able to puncture an orange. It makes him feel normal. Non threatening. And for now that’s enough to make him happy.

His phone vibrates.

> Diavolo: Your test is soon. Are you ready?
> 
> Satan: Of course.
> 
> Diavolo: I knew you’d be! I’ll be waiting for you. Make sure not to be late ❤️  
>  You can do it!!!

Satan grins at Diavolo’s enthusiasm, and then leisurely begins to stretch his muscles. This is something that he’s been looking forward to as well. Fighting the prince has always been fun of course, but this year he wants to actually give it his all. In fact, he’s going to blow Diavolo away. 

Combat is something he’s good at, a skill that has always come naturally to him. And if it’s Diavolo… then it’s okay to let loose in front of him, to bear his fangs and claws. After all, the prince once said he found that side of him to be attractive. It still throws him for a loop, but that’s also part of what’s inspiring him to do more than just try. 

Diavolo should be terrified of him, but he isn’t. So Satan doesn’t need to pretend to be anything other than who he is. And at his core, he thrives on violence. On the thrill of combat as that stupid mask finally gets tossed aside. Although in truth, he hasn’t been using it around Diavolo at all. 

It’s strange. Satan has worn that mask for his entire life, and now it's slowly starting to crumble away. When it’s gone, there'll be nothing left for him to hide behind. Yet the thought doesn’t frighten him, and a part of him even welcomes it. The opinion of strangers is beginning to matter less and less. 

They think that he is an unlovable freak? Perhaps he is. His origin story isn’t exactly a happy one. But that doesn’t mean that he has to try and pretend to be something different… or that he wants to be someone else. That mask was just something that he clung to, a set of training wheels that he used in order to try and form a personality. But now he feels like he can permanently take them off.

Satan doesn’t know what the end result will be. There’s a chance that it could lead him to ruin, or that he could simply glue it back together and don it once more. He glances over Diavolo’s text once more, and is filled with a determination to try.  
The prince is right.  
No matter what happens, he can do it.

So Satan forms a plan, the first of its kind. It’s one that involves trying to discover who he is. And it begins with opening a drawer full of files in his room, and setting them ablaze. If his nails ever get too sharp, then he can just buy more when he needs them. But until then, there’s no reason to have so many on hand. He’s fine as he is for the most part, therefore everything else can go. The persona, the unneeded gestures, Satan discards it all. And in the empty space that it leaves behind, he finally feels free.

So for the first time in his life, as he walks through the hallways of RAD, he doesn’t smile. There’s no effort made to make his expression look more approachable, and no book for him to hide behind. If they don’t like who he is… then that’s their problem.

He has a duel to win.

~+~+

The colosseum is dim, lit only by flames resting atop the highest pillars. There’s a soft, golden glow around the entire arena, and Diavolo stands in its center.

He’s in his demon form, his wings and horns glinting in the non existing light. The prince’s hair is reminiscent of flames itself, and his eyes add to the picture. Fire. Brimstone. All of those are things that scream Diavolo. If they weren’t here to fight, then Satan could have stared at him all day.

But now isn’t the time.

He tears his gaze away from Diavolo’s face, and focuses on a nearby pillar instead as he transforms. His cheeks feel red, but that’s okay. It’s not like Diavolo can see him after all. The lighting isn’t that good. Even if Satan knows that his eyes are now creating a glow of their own.  
They’re an emerald green. For a split second, he wonders if Diavolo likes the color.

The prince speaks, his tone formal and reserved. They’re here for business after all, not pleasure.  
“Your exam will begin once you pick your weapon of choice.”

He gestures to the rack of weapons to Satan’s left and right. It’s a massive collection. Not a single bit of weaponry has been left out.  
It’s all there. And Diavolo knows how to wield them all.  
_...How impressive._  
It’s yet another example of his knowledge. The prince is smart, clever, and exceptionally skilled. So it doesn’t come as a surprise that he would know each and every form of combat. Yet Satan can’t help but wonder if he knows the history behind them all as well.  
He’ll have to test that shortly.

Diavolo is still giving out instructions.  
“I’ll count down on three, and from there, it’s up to you to survive. If you are still standing by the time the timer is up, then you pass.  
As one of the seven demon lords, you are expected to survive for five minutes in total. This is the maximum time that we have allotted, and should be befitting of someone of your rank.”

A pause. He allows his words to sink in.

“That being said, the safe word is _celestial._ Utter it, and the exam will come to an end. Although your failure would be guaranteed. Any demons who fail are to be expelled from RAD for their own safety. Should that happen, you will be allowed to take it again in a year's time.”

Satan doesn’t bother to make a note of that. It’s unneeded. He has never failed an exam in his entire life.

Diavolo’s wings unfurl, and he uncrosses his arms, splaying his hands outward. If Satan didn’t know any better, he would assume that the prince was asking for a hug. But he easily sees that gesture for what it is.  
Diavolo is taunting him.  
_Come at me_ he says, with the slight quirk of his brow and a shit-eating grin. “I will not be holding back. Raise your weapon when you are ready to begin.”

Satan nods as his eyes skim over the assortment of weapons in front of him. Although he’s being tested right now, he can’t help but test Diavolo in return.  
How much does the prince truly know?

Although Satan hasn’t wielded them himself, he’s studied each and every weapon here. He’s familiar with them all. Their history. Their purpose. He could write an entire essay on any one of them. And now, he has to see if the prince can do the same.

His quiz starts with a simple question, as he points at one of the weapons in front of him.  
“What’s this one?”

Diavolo looks mildly amused.  
“Do you not know?”

“Humor me.”

And he does.

“In the human world, they are known as javelins, though here they are more commonly referred to as hastam. They are long distance weapons that excel at grounding flying enemies. Assuming you can throw them far enough.”

_Diavolo’s correct._  
Satan then gestures to a weapon on his left  
“And what makes it different from this?” 

__

“That is a lance, and they are primarily used on horseback, which makes them heavier. I would not recommend throwing them.”

__

“When was the last time they were used?”

__

“666666 years ago. In the Devildom, they fell out of practice once mounted combat became obsolete. But there are some that still practice it for fun. If that’s what you wish to go with, I can acquire a steed for you. Someone requested it today actually, though their test was only thirty seconds long.”  
Diavolo pouts.  
“…We didn’t get to do much.”

__

Satan chuckles.  
“I’m not surprised.”

__

He leisurely strolls along, looking at the cache of weapons, before stopping and pointing to another one at random.  
“And this one?”

__

“That is a war hammer. It has two sides. One that is blunt and heavy, and another that it spiked. Because of this it’s incredibly effective at dealing with armored opponents, or those with thick scales.”

__

Teasing the prince comes naturally.  
“And what about those with thick heads?”

__

“I wouldn’t know. Perhaps you should ask Mammon.”

__

The response makes Satan laugh.  
“Perhaps I should.”

__

Yes, Diavolo clearly knows his stuff. For every weapon that Satan points out, he’s able to give it its proper name and history. Some of it is stuff that Satan had completely forgotten about, so the reminder is nice. It’s refreshing, being able to chat with someone like this.  
Eventually, the topic strays away from quizzing Diavolo, and more onto his personal preference.

__

Satan can’t help but be curious after all.  
“Which one is your favorite?”

__

“The tomahawk.”

__

An instant reply, and not one that Satan would have predicted.

__

Diavolo snorts.  
“Were you expecting something more grand?”

__

A pause. He gestures to a pair of them in a nearby weapons rack. At first glance, Satan would have ignored them completely.

__

“Although they don’t look that impressive, they’re incredibly useful. It’s blade is good for digging, chopping, splitting, and prying things open. It’s lightweight and rather small, which makes it easy to carry around. The tomahawk is more than just a weapon, but a tool. So I prefer to always have one on hand.  
…They’re also incredibly fun to throw.”

__

The tomahawk stopped being used for combat ages ago. Other axes took precedence, simply because they were bigger or more aerodynamic. In a realm of magic and demons, some weapons were never meant to last. But the tomahawk is still used. Mostly for camping trips, or demons whose claws aren’t long or sharp enough to cut wood. Yes, instead of being used to hurt people, it became a tool of peace. Something that’s always able to lend a helping hand to those in need.

__

On the outside, it doesn’t match Diavolo at all. But on the inside, at its core...  
“It suits you.”

__

“Really?”

__

Satan nods, and softly smiles at the demon in question. “It’s a weapon that everyone needs, and one that I’d always want by my side.”

__

Diavolo flushes in response, and then lets out an awkward cough. “As wonderful as this little test is, I must encourage you to make your choice.”

__

A good point. Satan nods once again, and makes his way towards one of the weapon racks behind him. There are thousands of options. The possibilities alone are overwhelming.  
He’s never actually tried to choose one before. 

__

In the past, he simply used his claws and tail. Hand to hand combat still counts, and it’s what Satan excels at. That _should_ be what he’s going with. It isn’t wise for him to be entertaining any of this.  
But he wants to try something new.

__

So he looks over them all, tossing them to the side as they’re discarded. One of them has to be the right one, he just hasn’t found it yet.  
Rack after rack. Weapons upon weapons. Satan makes his way across the room as he tries to find one that he actually wants to use. He can feel Diavolo’s magic swirl around, picking up after him and putting things back in their proper place.  
There’s no rush, although he can feel the frustration welling within him.  
Why is this so hard?  
How did his brothers figure out what they wanted to wield?

__

Nothing feels natural, and he can’t go by skill because he feels equally matched with them all. In most cases knowledge is handy, but here it just feels like a burden.  
If he knew less, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so lost.

__

Another one gets tossed aside, and then he sees it.  
The morning star. 

__

It’s a weapon that Lucifer wouldn’t dare to touch. The man had always deemed it too barbaric. Too crass. So he stubbornly stuck to the sword, and the pretty little image that created. Satan never agreed.  
Maces were way more fun, and there’s something incredibly satisfying about smashing things to bits. Not that he’ll be doing that today of course.

__

Still, he can’t help but chuckle at the irony as he considers it; Lucifer refusing to wield a weapon that was named after him, and Satan using it in his stead. At one point the name of it would have scared him off, but now…  
It’s nothing more than a title, one that neither of them truly wanted. So Satan picks it up, knowing that this makes him unique. That even though he holds the morning star, he can define himself outside of it. 

__

The weapon feels right in his hands, if a bit awkward. But that’s okay. He’ll make it his own.

__

“Have you selected your weapon?”

__

Satan’s grip tightens around it’s shaft. It isn’t too late to go back, to discard the mace in his hands and use his claws instead. That’s what he’s always done. It would assure him of his victory, he knows that, and yet…  
He refuses to fall into that pattern once more. The mask may be gone, but that doesn’t mean that a monster is what lies underneath. No, instead he’s going to try and be something else.

__

Satan doesn’t know what that could be yet, but this feels like a good start. As holds his head up high, he’s filled with hope.

__

_I am more than just a weapon. I’m **me.**_

__

Those statements are simple, yet they fuel his every move as he steps forward, morning star in hand. Once he reaches the prince, he proudly declares, “Yes. I have.”

__

Diavolo grins, although it’s different from his normal one. There’s something about it that seems… predatory.  
“A fine choice. You never fail to take me by surprise.”

__

An identical weapon magically appears in Diavolo’s hands. His wings fan out, and Satan’s tail twitches in anticipation.

__

“On the count of three, we will begin. Remember, you have to survive for five minutes in order to pass.”

__

Satan nods. Nothing about this exam is intimidating.  
_He can do this._

__

“One.”

__

Fighting Diavolo is going to be fun, he can already sense it.

__

“Two.”

__

The prince radiates power and strength. So there’s no need to hold anything back.  
Diavolo can take whatever Satan throws at him.

__

“ ** _Three._** ”

__

It begins.

__

_Clang!_ Their maces immediately clash together. The blow is parried, but they don’t remain standing there for long.

__

The flicker of movement. Spikes that are centimeters away from grazing their face. The ground quakes with every dodged attack.

__

Satan laughs. 

__

Another clang. A nearby pillar gets smashed. Flames lick floor once it tumbles down. Smoke. Ash. Satan uses it to cover him and launch a surprise attack.  
It fails. The blow gets parried.

__

More laughter, but this time it belongs to the two of them. 

__

Diavolo charges in.  
Satan darts to the left, feeling Diavolo’s wings graze the corner of his cheek. It leaves behind a scratch, one that Satan quickly heals.  
Sharp. Pointy. Dangerous. They are the same.  
Just a couple of monsters dueling one another. But in this world, underneath the colosseum's dim lighting, that isn't such a bad thing.

__

Satan blocks the prince’s next blow with his tail. With a chink, several spikes on Diavolo’s mace falls off. The weapon is broken, but still usable.  
For now.  
The prince’s eyes widen once he assesses the damage, and he then chuckles. It’s low and dark, the sound practically vibrating in his chest.  
“ **You’re magnificent.** ”

__

The praise fuels him. And surprisingly enough, Satan doesn’t even bother denying it or brushing it aside. Instead, he simply looks up at Diavolo with a smirk.  
“I know.”

__

The prince guffaws at his remark, revealing pointed teeth and a forked tongue. Satan can’t help but stare.  
In many ways they are vastly different. But when they clash once more, one thing is absolutely clear. They’re cut from the same cloth. A pair of predators that have finally given into their baser instincts, and in the process discovered something precious.  
They aren’t a freak for existing like this, nor are they alone. So it’s okay, because for the first time in their lives, this part of them has been accepted by someone else. A weight has been lifted. Internal chains are snapped.  
There’s no fear to be found here. Only joy and laughter. They’re having fun.

__

_Fwoosh!_ A swing of a mace. Rubble. Cracks, The coliseum will definitely need to be repaired after this. But no one is hurt. Satan faints to the right, and grins when Diavolo moves accordingly.  
He fell for his trap.  
The prince’s left side is wide open, and Satan is able to land a solid hit on his ribs. There’s no blood, although it’ll leave a bruise, For some reason, Diavolo doesn’t bother to heal it.

__

Instead, he flaps his wings, causing Satan to lose his balance. The gust of wind sends him flying back, and the morning star falls out of his hands, skidding across the floor. _Crunch!_ Diavolo crushes it underneath his heel.  
He’s drawing closer.

__

Satan can hear the clacking of boots across the floor, along with the timer going off. His test is officially over now, but that doesn’t matter.  
He’s here to win.

__

So instead of bowing his head in submission, he grabs an axe off of the floor and throws it. Diavolo’s eyes widen, but the prince dodges it with ease. 

__

Still, it did its job. Satan takes this newfound opening, and uses it to gain some more distance in between them. He’s back on his feet, with a random weapon in hand. A brief glance let’s him know that it’s a sword.

__

Figures. 

__

But this is something that he can work with, and it allows him to deflect Diavolo’s next blow. Adrenaline. Sweat. He’s never fought this hard before.  
It makes him feel alive.

__

The mace in Diavolo’s hand flickers, morphing into a mirror image of the sword that’s now in Satan’s hands. They share a grin, one full of fangs and sharp teeth. 

__

_Shing!_ Their weapons pull apart. Satan takes several steps back, and adjusts his stance. The sword is still new to him, but that’s fine.  
He’s studied everything after all.

__

Falling into the proper form is easy, as is raking his eyes over Diavolo’s body. The prince’s stance has changed as well, becoming more guarded. Regal. He paints a beautiful picture, especially when their swords clash once again.

__

The golden glow of his eyes. The way his horns glint as the light of the coliseum frames them. Wings that fan out and fold with every one of his movements. And muscles that flex in tandem with it all.

__

He’s majestic. 

__

Yet this thought isn’t new, nor does it take his breath away. In fact, nowadays it’s a daily occurrence. Diavolo won’t even be doing anything. They’ll pass one another in the hallway, or Satan will see his smile from across the room, and his heart will begin to flutter.

__

That doesn’t even account for the days where they wake up in each other's arms. Where Satan’s morning begins with a sleepy smile and a drawn out yawn. Something has changed within him. The lust almost seems softer somehow. More warm. 

__

Checking Diavolo out used to make him panic, but now there’s a sense of ease to it all. And the feeling itself doesn’t even feel so out of place. This is simply a part of them now, a part of their dynamic. Taking the time to admire one another, appreciating the way Diavolo’s body twirls when their swords clash once more…  
Laughter bubbles out of Satan’s throat. Everything about this is exhilarating. The adrenaline that fuels his every move, the desire that quietly burns within him, how they seem to match each other blow for blow…  
Who knew that an exam could be this much fun?

__

The whistling of air. The humming of the blade. Sparks. A flicker of light from the colosseum's flames.  
The fight goes on.

__

_Swoosh!_ Diavolo dodges his attack, and the blade cuts nothing but air. It's followed by a clang as Satan blocks his next blow. They quickly pull apart. 

__

Soft pants fill the room. The prince’s spare hand cards through his hair, as he attempts to neaten it. The strands are pulled out of the way, revealing a forehead that’s always been covered. Sweat glues it in place, dripping off of Diavolo and falling onto the floor.

__

It’s a good look. Diavolo should style his hair back more often. Satan gives himself a second to appreciate the view before swooping in.

__

Another clang, but this one is followed by a kick. His foot slams into Diavolo’s stomach, and the prince’s sword goes flying out of his hands. He falls to his knees, and Satan presses his sword to the underside of Diavolo’s jaw.

__

He tilts Diavolo’s chin upwards, admiring the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Satan’s eyes are drawn to the movement, to the bead of sweat that trickles down his neck.

__

_He wants to lick it._  
…  
….  
…  
_…Wait, what? _  
_What the fuck is wrong with him?!___

_____ _

His eyes widen, and his stance falters. The blade is starting to waver, shaking underneath the desire that’s running through him.  
Satan’s never wanted anything like this before. Enjoying the way Diavolo looks, internally fawning over the sounds that he makes, is different from whatever this is. It’s weird. Why is he being so weird right now?

_____ _

In the midst of his panic, Diavolo strikes.

_____ _

In an instant, their positions have changed. The prince looms over him. The sword that was once in Satan’s hands is now pointed at his throat. Another bead of sweat runs down Diavolo’s neck, and the urge to lick it is even stronger than before.

_____ _

_…Okay, so the panic he feels towards checking him out isn’t completely gone._  
His mouth feels parched. There are barely any flames lighting up the coliseum, and yet it’s hot. Too hot. The heat burns within him, coloring his cheeks.  
He can’t even focus on Diavolo’s face.  
The only thing he can see is that damned throat, and the way it’s _calling_ to him.  
His own feels painfully dry. 

_____ _

Why is he so thirsty?  
Is he fucking possessed?  
Diavolo isn’t even covered in enough sweat to quench him, so where is this desperation even coming from?  
He should be craving water instead. Not… this.

_____ _

There’s a beat of silence, broken only by the sound of them catching their breath. Diavolo’s Adam’s apple bobs, and Satan licks his lips without a second thought.  
…He needs to focus on something else, before he does anything stupid.

_____ _

But that’s easier said than done. Especially when Diavolo uses the flat end of the blade to guide Satan’s chin into facing him once more.

_____ _

Their eyes meet, and all he can see is gold; a shade of it that’s warmer than honey and makes him melt on the spot. He’ll never get tired of drowning in them.

_____ _

It’s a bad idea, to focus on this instead. But this is at least normal. Yes, gazing at Diavolo’s eyes isn’t as weird as what he wanted to do before. So he allows himself to get lost in their depths, if only for a moment. It... relaxes him, like reading a good book in front of an open fire. 

_____ _

Diavolo grins, and Satan can feel himself softening even further. The world itself seems less daunting now, as if all of that strangeness from before was just a dream. So he focuses on what’s truly important; winning this duel.

_____ _

And it should be incredibly easy. The prince’s guard is lowered. From the look on his face, he assumes that victory is his. The cocky statement that leaves his mouth only confirms Satan’s suspicions.

_____ _

“I believe I’m the winner now. What do you think?”

_____ _

So he merely raises a brow in retaliation, and leans forward. Satan bites down on the blade, a wave of smug satisfaction rolling through him as it shatters into millions of pieces. He spits the remaining shards of metal out of his mouth, and grins.  
“I think you’re wrong.”

_____ _

There’s a pause. A beat of silence. It’s broken by Diavolo’s laughter.  
“I suppose I was!”

_____ _

The prince's arm extends outward, and Satan takes it without hesitation. He’s lifted up with ease, although Diavolo goes out of his way to adjust their position in order to avoid the spare bits of metal that litter the floor.

_____ _

The prince looks at him with concern.  
“Are you okay?”

_____ _

Satan nods.  
There’s a slight coppery tang to his mouth, but it’s nothing terrible. He’s barely in any pain, and the results were worth it.  
It proves that matter what happens, he will never yield. Satan was born to rebel, to fight any opposition that stands in his way. Getting hurt is simply something that happens to him every now and then. But that’s nothing a quick healing spell can’t fix.

_____ _

His test is over, yet Diavolo lingers. Instead of ushering Satan out of the door, he snaps his fingers, and a jar appears in his hands. It’s full of some kind of gel, a healing one, most likely; the label isn't facing towards him, so Satan doesn’t know for sure. But that’s unimportant, because no one is actually going to use it. His injuries are practically nonexistent, and Diavolo doesn’t have a scratch on him.  
They don’t need it.

_____ _

Yet Diavolo opens the lid, and the scent of flowers wafts around the room. It’s overpowering, but it isn’t bad. In fact, if Satan didn’t know any better, he would say that it’s... _soothing._

_____ _

…Why is Diavolo deciding to stay?  
“Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

_____ _

“Yes. But first I wanted to attend to you. You’re bleeding.”

_____ _

The gel really is unnecessary. Satan’s wounds are incredibly minor, and could easily be healed in a second. Yet he craves Diavolo’s touch. And when the prince's fingers softly brush up against his lips, a shiver runs down his spine.  
...Perhaps he should allow it, just to be safe. There are some things that magic can’t fix after all. Yes, this is a purely strategic move, and has nothing to do with the goosebumps that are starting to form on his body.

_____ _

More of that gel gets smeared across his lips, causing Satan to fidget. The demon squirms in place, torn between staying and wanting to distance himself from whatever that substance is.  
_It’s cold, like a block of ice._

_____ _

Diavolo tsks.  
“Hold still.”

_____ _

And he does, or tries his best to at least. He can’t stop himself from shivering. The chill seems to travel down all the way down to his toes, seeping into every nook and cranny that it can find. Whatever Diavolo is using is potent.

_____ _

After only a minute the freezing cold is gone. In its place is a heat, a dull warmth that makes him feel cozy and safe. Satan sighs, letting out a hum as Diavolo continues treating him.

_____ _

The prince hums as well.  
“That was very impressive work my dear. I knew I had saved the best for last.  
...Can I tell you a secret?”

_____ _

There’s a brief pause, but he doesn’t wait for Satan to answer.

_____ _

“I’ve actually been looking forward to this all day.”

_____ _

That isn't exactly a secret. Diavolo never even attempted to hide his enthusiasm.

_____ _

Satan raises his brow in amusement.  
“To the duel, or to just holding the exam in general?”

_____ _

“To you of course! Fighting you was exhilarating. I knew it would be obviously, but I never could have imagined that—“

_____ _

Diavolo prattles on in excitement, his words a never ending string of praise and adoration. His eyes light up as well, whenever he mimes the slash of a sword or the swing of a mace.  
Satan… did good.  
He knows that he did, but it’s nice to have it confirmed. To simply listen to Diavolo and know that he succeeded in his goal. He passed with flying colors, and took the prince’s breath away. Although, if he doesn’t interrupt Diavolo soon, they’ll be here all day.

_____ _

So Satan shushes him with a grin.  
“I know. I feel the same.”

_____ _

Fighting Diavolo was incredibly fun. He’s never been able to let loose with another person before. At least, not in a way where everyone was actually alive at the end of it. There was always an element of fear. He had to be reserved. To hold onto his mask. Otherwise someone could get hurt.  
Even when they had dueled before, he always held back. Diavolo’s their future king; they can’t afford to let anything happen to him. The prince is far too important. So Satan only fought well enough in order to pass. His peers were always more comfortable with him when he came back with a ‘B.’  
(“For the Avatar of Wrath,” they claimed, “he apparently isn’t that good of a fighter. I bet I could squish him like a bug.”  
“Hah, so what are those claws even good for?”  
“Who knows? Maybe he uses them to peel oranges.”)

_____ _

It’s all about balance. Satan’s true nature has always been a mystery. Is he a monster, one that cannot be tamed? Or is he a normal demon just like the rest of them, a freak that no one in their right mind would fear?  
It’s hard to say. Not even Satan knows the true answer. But today he didn’t need to find one. And it’s a question that he’s no longer interested in. Sparring with Diavolo gave him all of the conviction that he needed.

_____ _

_I’m going to continue to try and be myself, even if that makes the people around me uncomfortable._

_____ _

The mask is permanently gone. His persona shattered by his own hand. This task won’t be easy, but Satan is still determined to try. And Diavolo will be there to support him along the way, so he’ll never be alone. Satan can feel himself growing more and more excited at the prospect. The best journeys occur when you have a companion by your side, even if it’s a metaphorical one. And Diavolo has a habit of making him feel like he can accomplish anything. Together, there’s nothing that they can’t do.

_____ _

Satan is absolutely sure of this.  
“You make an excellent partner.”

_____ _

Diavolo smirks and waggles his brows. With a snort, Satan lightly punches the man's shoulder.  
“ **Sparring** partner. Don’t get any ideas.”

_____ _

The prince just laughs.  
“I’m afraid you’re too late! I’m full of them! Now shhh, you still have a cut on your lip.”

_____ _

Satan’s mouth closes, despite his desire to come up with a retort. Diavolo grins at the gesture of submission and praises him, his voice lowering to a velvety purr. “ ** _Good boy._** ”

_____ _

_Oh._ Satan doesn’t know why that sentence causes a shiver to run down his spine, or why his lips part in a tiny gasp before closing once more. Lust shoots through him, the intensity of it catching him by surprise. Diavolo has complimented him plenty of times before, so why is this different?  
Why does he feel so compliant and needy?  
Before he can come up with an answer, a thumb brushes up against his lips, causing his mind to go blank. It feels nice. The gel is cool, a direct contrast from the heat that’s pooling within him. His body sags with relief. Thankfully Diavolo is there to steady him by placing a hand on his hip, otherwise he would have melted into a puddle on the floor. 

_____ _

Another pass. More gel. Satan’s lips part, but Diavolo doesn’t seem to mind. The smell is getting stronger. He’s drowning in a sea of jasmine, it’s currents pulling him under into this sickening heat. The warmth stains his cheeks, and makes its home in his head. He leans further into Diavolo’s touch. The prince’s hand remains settled on his hip, while the other one brushes up against his lips once again.

_____ _

He’s feeling better by the minute. Yes, this is fine. Wounds feel warm when they’re being healed after all. That just means that the gel is working. So there’s nothing for him to worry about.  
This is perfectly normal… isn’t it?

_____ _

The doubt is there, but it gets muffled with another swipe of Diavolo’s thumb.  
His lips are tingling. And this time, they don’t just simply part. Why would they, when all of his reservations are melting away? So his tongue darts out and grazes Diavolo’s thumb. There’s a gasp. A bit of the gel enters his mouth. It’s not enough for him to actually taste it, yet he finds himself wanting to do it again.  
_How strange._

_____ _

For a split second he feels mortified. Something’s definitely wrong. His body had moved on its own, and he’s usually able to keep those weird desires at bay. But now it's starting to consume him.  
No, there’s nothing normal about this heat. He should leave. If he doesn’t soon, then...

_____ _

A cute little sound falls out of Diavolo’s mouth, something in between a squeak and a hiccup, and that roots Satan in place. It appears that he took the prince by surprise once more. The desire within him burns brighter.  
He _needs_ to hear it again.

_____ _

So he stays, and comes up with a convenient excuse.  
“You had some gel on your hand.”

_____ _

It’s the truth. There’s nothing suspicious about licking someone’s hand if you’re helping them clean it. The gesture can be read in a completely platonic manner.  
Satan mentally pats himself on the back.  
He’s a genius.

_____ _

There’s a pause. The room is silent for a moment or two, and then Diavolo breaks with a question.  
“...Does your tongue feel any better?”

_____ _

That’s right, he did hurt it after biting down on the blade, didn’t he? It’s only a couple of scratches, incredibly minor ones at that. But his mouth still faintly tastes of iron, and this is the perfect opening to get what he wants. There’s a saying that’s often used in literature: killing two birds with one stone. And that’s exactly what Satan’s doing when he nods his head in affirmation.

_____ _

Diavolo hums, and then dips his fingers into the jar. He generously coats them with that gel-like substance, and then offers them to Satan with a grin.  
“Do you need more?”

_____ _

“Yes.”

_____ _

He’s never agreed to something so quickly in his entire life. But the embarrassment fades once his lips wrap around Diavolo’s fingers. The taste is… different. His tongue slowly rolls around each digit, as he tries to figure out how to describe it.

_____ _

...Honey? No. It isn’t quite sweet enough, although Satan feels like it’s rolling inside of him.

_____ _

...Tea? There are many herbal teas that involve flowers, but none of them make him feel this calm. His thoughts are starting to trickle away as the world slows down to a crawl.

_____ _

...Apples? Definitely not. The flavor isn’t similar at all, but it makes him feel just as happy. In fact, there’s something about it that soothes his soul, although he can’t figure out what it is.  
Perhaps the answer will come to him in time.

_____ _

Eventually, all of the gel is gone, and the only thing he can taste is Diavolo’s skin; although there isn’t much of a taste to it. But still, there’s something about it that’s… euphoric.

_____ _

He needs to have more. Satan moans, grabs onto the prince's wrist, and sucks on his fingers with renewed vigor. Diavolo’s eyes flicker shut, and a choked gasp falls out of his mouth.

_____ _

“Ah, I think there was something in that. Satan— _fuck._ ”

_____ _

His voice cracks near the end, but Satan doesn’t care.  
He burns, and the flames consume any shame that he would have felt. There is only this heat that’s settled within him, and a craving for… something. His mind can’t focus on what it is.  
Only that Diavolo seems to fulfill it all, especially with the way he shivers and gasps.

_____ _

The prince pulls his hand away, and Satan whines at the loss. Those flames grow stronger. Brighter. And threaten to burn him alive. The taste… he was so close to figuring out what it was. It’s on the tip of his tongue, ironically enough. He just needs to try it one more time.

_____ _

“I’m going to call Barbatos. I need you to be quiet, okay?”

_____ _

Words are hard, but Satan finds them.  
“...Taste good. Want you.”

_____ _

Diavolo clears his throat.  
“I know. But this is a very important call.”

_____ _

“Okay. I’ll be quiet.

_____ _

“Thank you.”

_____ _

Unfortunately for Diavolo, Satan never said anything about behaving, and the idea of touching him once more is too tempting to pass up. The image of  
Diavolo’s blush, all of the sounds that he was desperately trying to smother… it plays on a loop in Satan’s head. He wasn’t done watching him. Each and every reaction that Diavolo makes is entertaining, and he wants to permanently ingrain them all into his head.

_____ _

No matter what, this will be the one thing that Satan never forgets. Normally, he’d at least question this, or try to fight it. Their relationship is special, and this is definitely crossing some lines. But right now… none of that seems to matter. All of those doubts feel incredibly far away.

_____ _

His mind is fuzzy and blurred, and the only thought running through his head is how much he wants this. Diavolo is many things. There are thousands of adjectives that Satan could use to describe him. But right now, the only one he can think of is _delicious._

_____ _

Diavolo’s focused on dialing the number, so he doesn’t see Satan dip his fingers into the jar. And by the time the prince feels more of that stuff get smeared on his hand, he’s already too late.  
Satan’s mouth resumes its original position from before, and he immediately begins to suck and swirl his tongue around each finger. A satisfied purr falls from his lips the second that taste hits his mouth again.  
It really is good.

_____ _

Diavolo fumbles with his phone, nearly dropping it on the floor. He muffles a moan by biting his lip, and when Satan looks up at him…  
His pupils are dilated.

_____ _

Their gaze doesn’t waver as Diavolo accepts the call, nor does Satan stop. 

_____ _

“Barbatos we have an emergency.”

_____ _

There’s something hypnotizing about this, about having that look directed at him and him alone. It’s easy as well. Mindless. Like licking a lollipop.  
Although a lollipop doesn’t shiver when he flicks his tongue across its surface. That just makes Diavolo better. 

_____ _

“Satan’s— _Ah…_ ”

_____ _

A pretty sound. It’s fitting.

_____ _

“—I just grabbed something. I didn’t read the label.”

_____ _

His mind truly is blank, and the noises that Diavolo makes are the only thing that fills it. There’s a fog, one that Satan could try and fight if he wanted to. But giving in is easier. It makes him feel at peace. He thinks far too often anyway.

_____ _

“—Healing gel. Clear. Smells like jasmine.”

_____ _

The prince's voice is strained. There are words, some of which Satan can understand, and others that blur into the background. But there’s one that stands out:  
Aphrodisiac.

_____ _

_Ah._ That explains a whole lot. Yet Satan feels nothing once that revelation hits him. It doesn’t matter. He’s wanted this for what feels like an incredibly long time, although the finger thing is new. That must be where the aphrodisiac kicks in.

_____ _

And given the way Diavolos breath hitches, how some of his sentences trail off as he gasps and groans, Satan must be good at it. Yes, he has to be doing something right. So there’s no need to think about it any further.

_____ _

They both like it.

_____ _

Diavolo hisses into his phone, “No this isn’t a good thing, stop laughing—“

_____ _

He looks away, and Satan growls. His fangs lightly scrape against the pad of one of Diavolo’s fingers, as his claws dig into the prince’s arm.  
_Your attention should be on me._

_____ _

Another sound. This one is quiet, but just as pretty. Although Satan doesn’t say his request outloud, Diavolo seems to get it. Their eyes lock once more, and Satan rewards him with a purr as he gets back to work.

_____ _

“How do I fix him?”

_____ _

A swirl of the tongue. He could do this all day.

_____ _

“—You know that isn’t an option.”

_____ _

His fangs gently scrape along Diavolo’s fingertips, and he can feel the man shiver in response.  
_How interesting._

_____ _

“—fall asleep? But how long will that take? _I can’t—_ “

_____ _

The sentence trails off when Satan begins to deliberately nibble at them, like a cat. The comparison makes him purr once again.  
Love bites. That’s what these are. He wonders if Diavolo can sense the affection behind them, if he can read this message as well.  
I…  
Satan’s mind blurs even further. He feels too tired to look into it. So he ignores the implications behind this newfound gesture, and bites down with a bit more force. It’s nothing terrible, but there’s a trickle of blood.

_____ _

Diavolo groans before hissing into his phone, “Don’t you dare hang up.”

_____ _

Satan laps up the tiny dot of it with ease, covering that one finger with little kitten licks. It really is blissful, letting himself go like this. He should ingest an aphrodisiac more often.

_____ _

The prince snarls, “ **You know why.** ”

_____ _

There’s a moan, but this time it falls from Satan’s lips. The sound is muffled, but he knows that Diavolo heard it loud and clear.

_____ _

“You’re staying here on the phone with me until this wears off. That is an order.”

_____ _

Time passes. Satan doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he can feel himself growing sleepier.  
His movements slow down and become more lazy. Languid. A part of him feels disappointed that they can’t stay like this forever. That he’s going to black out soon. The fire hasn’t even gone out. It remains burning within him. But before it goes away, there’s something important that he has to do first, now that he's been given the courage to do so.

_____ _

Diavolo’s throat has been calling to him ever since this test began. So he leans in, and finally licks a stripe along it. There’s a gasp, and then the prince's phone clatters to the floor mid conversation.  
Sweat, as it turns out, doesn’t really have a taste. It’s salty, but other than that…  
Satan doesn’t know what the fuss was about. 

_____ _

_Ah, but maybe he needs to try a bit more. Just to be sure._

_____ _

Another lick, this time directly along his Adam’s apple. One of Diavolo’s hands tangles itself into his hair, and he whispers out Satan’s name in a broken moan. He sounds so pretty, begging like that. Especially when Satan’s fangs brush up against his skin. He’s greeted with that salty taste once more.

_____ _

It definitely isn’t all that good. Not terrible, but it isn’t exactly the type of thing he’d crave. No, it’s the prince’s reaction instead. That’s what he’s been after this entire time.  
That’s what’s truly delicious.

_____ _

Soft pants leave his lips. It’s hot. His entire body feels like it’s on fire, and Diavolo is the only thing that can quell it. So his feverish mind clings to each and every sound that he makes, to the relief that pours through his limbs just from having Diavolo’s hand on his head.

_____ _

It feels amazing.

_____ _

Satan doesn’t know what that aphrodisiac could contain, and is far past caring at this point. But whatever’s in it is incredibly potent. The taste isn’t half bad either. Diavolo should definitely try some. And once that idea enters his head, it’s the only thing that he can think about.

_____ _

The pleasure that courses through him is something that he’d never be able to cause. Satan is too… he can’t find the right words. Inexperienced is all that comes to mind. And while that’s normally something that doesn’t bother him… Diavolo is different. Whatever pleasure Satan could fumblingly offer him wouldn’t be enough. He deserves more. Satan wants to give him more. But he doesn’t know how.

_____ _

This is an opportunity. A chance to fix that. With this gel he wouldn’t need to be good at it. They could just touch. No doubts. No hesitation. It’s too perfect to pass up.

_____ _

He can feel his eyelids growing heavier, but Satan pushes past that to pull away from Diavolo and grab the container once more. He scoops a glob of it up with his fingers, and smears it on his lips. A gasp. Diavolo’s face flushes an even deeper shade of red. His expression is absolutely priceless.

_____ _

Satan can’t stop himself from giggling.  
“Would you like some?”

_____ _

Diavolo tenses up.  
“I _can’t—_ “

_____ _

He runs a finger along the prince's chest, allowing his nail to break skin. It isn’t enough to make Diavolo bleed, but that thin red line has marked him, if only for a little while. And Satan feels content in knowing that he was the one who put in there.

_____ _

The prince’s lips, on the other hand, are bleeding and bruised from the amount of times that he’s tried to stifle his moans. Even now, there’s a spec of blood welling up in the corner of his mouth.

_____ _

Satan wipes it away with his thumb.  
“Let me heal you. After all, one taste wouldn’t hurt, would it Dia?”

_____ _

Diavolo’s arm slowly begins to wrap around his waist.  
“...Just a taste. That’s all.”

_____ _

They lean in, but their lips never get to touch. The last of the aphrodisiac has finally left Satan’s body, and the rest of the side effects are starting to kick in. Frustration wells up within him. A kiss. That’s all he wants. Why does something so simple continue to elude him? Satan frowns. There’s still time. If he can just overcome this, then—  
_Ah, but he can’t._  
The urge to fall asleep topples it all. So despite his best efforts, he misses his target completely. His head rests against Diavolo’s shoulder instead, and he passes out with a sullen expression on his face.

_____ _

~+~+

_____ _

Satan wakes up in his bed with a groan, tossing his covers aside. There’s only a second of peace before his eyes widen in shock. Memories from last night(?) slam into him with full force. Diavolo’s fingers in his mouth. Gasps. Moans. The taste of an aphrodisiac on his tongue, and every single thought that ran through his head.

_____ _

Satan remembers it all. He had tried to...  
He rolls around in his bed and screams into his pillow.  
The embarrassment doesn’t fade away, and his blush only deepens.

_____ _

This is all Lucifer’s fault! If he didn’t have that stupid conversation with him beforehand, then Satan’s mind wouldn’t have been in the gutter when he and Diavolo fought. No. He wouldn’t have focused on the way sweat gleamed off of the prince's body, on how his muscles would shift and move, the predatory gaze that made Satan feel hot and heavy and…  
His thoughts would have been elsewhere, clearly. 

_____ _

_…How is he supposed to talk to him now?!_

_____ _

Just the thought of looking at Diavolo in the eye again flusters him, and that’s not even taking his voice into account. It should be illegal to sound that good, to make those kinds of noises when they barely even did anything. If they were to go further…  
What would Diavolo sound like then?

_____ _

Satan can feel his face somehow grow more red, and he smothers himself with his pillow once more. Deep breaths. He needs to calm down. Otherwise he might actually break something, and he can’t afford to get another bed frame.  
...Diavolo would notice.  
So he slowly gets up, and closes his eyes. One by one, he shoves all of those thoughts and feelings away. Another breath, but this one comes naturally to him.  
He’ll be fine, somehow.  
Every problem has a solution after all, even the weird ones. He just has to handle it one step at a time.

_____ _

It begins with him getting up, and making his way towards his dresser. A new change of clothes should help, especially since he slept in his uniform over night. But his dresser isn’t empty. Alongside all of Diavolo’s gifts rests a piece of parchment.

_____ _

The prince left him a note.

_____ _

> _I hope you were able to sleep well.  
>  I’m really sorry about what happened. I—_

_____ _

There are several lines that have been scribbled out.

_____ _

> _I’m not sure how much you remember, but I unintentionally gave you something that had the potential to hurt you.  
>  That is the last thing that I’d ever want. I should have been paying more attention. The truth is that I just wanted an excuse to touch you. But then things got out of hand. I’m deeply sorry for putting you in that position, and I hope that you can find it within your heart to forgive me._
> 
> _____ _
> 
> _~ Dia_

_____ _

Diavolo blames himself. Satan frowns. They were both at fault. He could have teleported away, could have ended things as soon as Diavolo told him to be still, but that crush took hold, and here they are. Dealing with the aftermath of him making a complete fool out of himself.

_____ _

The prince was well behaved the entire time, but the same can’t be said for himself. He tried to coerce Diavolo into kissing him after all. Perhaps it’s a stroke of luck that it didn’t work. It makes the cleanup a lot easier. So with a sigh, Satan picks up his phone.

_____ _

They have to fix this somehow, and talking is the first logical step, even if it is the most daunting one. Confrontation isn’t something that he fears, but there’s something almost terrifying about this. And it has everything to do with the feelings that are coursing through him, along with the uncertainty of Diavolo’s thoughts behind the matter. An answer exists to both of those things, one that’s within his reach. Yet Satan isn’t sure about whether or not he actually wants to know it. 

_____ _

He looks over the letter once more. It was written very sincerely, but there’s a chance that Diavolo could still hate him for this. Satan wouldn’t blame him if he did. If anyone else other than Diavolo had done the same to him, he’d be horrified. Disgusted. It’s a miracle that he wasn’t paralyzed or sent away.

_____ _

Reflecting back on it, Diavolo even appeared to be into the whole thing, but Satan wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time. He was probably just seeing what he wanted to see, and the prince was simply worried about accidentally hurting him.  
The other possibility hints at something else, but he tosses it aside with ease. There’s no way that would ever happen. Diavolo isn't attracted to him. He just feels bad about what happened, and is trying to ease Satan’s guilt. That’s obviously why he left the note.  
Their relationship is special, that hasn’t changed, so perhaps that’s why Satan pushes all of his anxieties aside to try and contact him. 

_____ _

_I forgive you._ That’s all he needs to say.

_____ _

And it’s Diavolo, so it should be fine… right?

_____ _

Satan’s thumb briefly hovers over the call button before he decides against it. Hearing Diavolo’s voice right now would just fluster him even more. He’s already anxious enough. Memories of the prince softly moaning his name flow through his head, and Satan smothers each and every one of them with a groan. That sound is going to haunt his dreams. He can already tell. 

_____ _

Fuck, what if Diavolo comes to visit him tonight? He can’t—  
Deep breaths. This is fine. He just needs to stick to the plan. And it’s important that Diavolo knows that he didn’t do anything wrong. Well, nothing to make Satan mad at him at least. A phone call is definitely out of the question, but texting should still work.

_____ _

His fingers glide over the keys, yet he hesitates before sending it. For some reason, he still feels anxious, even though the message is incredibly simple. He looks it over several times and frowns. Conversation. That’s the problem. He’s worried that he won’t be able to handle it. That Diavolo’s finally figured him out, and is simply waiting to turn him down.

_____ _

He needs to get better at hiding it, for the sake of their relationship if nothing else. Dreams. Reality. Satan can feel his mind begging to blur the distinction in between them. Giving into this crush is easy, one of the easy things that he’s ever done. But he can’t afford to do that. Diavolo will never return his feelings. No matter what, the prince is simply being kind. Even now, he wrote out a letter to try and bridge the gap that's in between them. The gap that Satan created because he couldn’t keep it together.

_____ _

Strangely enough, Lucifer’s advice comes to him, and it actually isn’t half bad. Perhaps he did gain something from that awkward conversation after all.

_____ _

_“Relationships are a two-way street. It’s all about give and take, but one person should never be doing it all. No position is permanent. That’s why you have safe words, and why you should only ever be with someone you trust. In bed, one person may have power over the other. And you may want to keep it that way. But your relationship will extend beyond that.  
Giving and taking isn’t some sort of role that you assign to one another. It is a task, one that the two of you will share. No matter what, you are always their equal in this. So never be afraid to speak up if something makes you uneasy.  
Your comfort is what matters. The same goes for them. Communication is key. Make sure to talk things out with them if you ever run into any… difficulties.”_

Time and time again, Diavolo has always taken the initiative when something went wrong. So it’s only fair for Satan to try and fix things too, to work on shoving that crush further away into the back of his head. That is what he can give to the prince in return, an effort to keep things normal between them, so that way they’ll never have to resort to something like this ever again.  
For Diavolo, Satan is going to try his best.

_____ _

So despite the anxiety that’s still thrumming within him, he sends the message.  
He immediately receives a response.

_____ _

> Satan: I forgive you.
> 
> _____ _
> 
> Diavolo: I’m glad to hear it!! 😊😊😊😊

_______ _ _ _

A sigh of relief passes through his lips, along with a tiny grin. That response was so incredibly _Diavolo _that he can’t help but feel at ease. His mind is a mess, full of convoluted thoughts and ideas that never seem to end. But, like always, Diavolo helps him simplify it all.  
Things are already looking up.__

_______ _ _ _

His work isn’t finished just yet though. There’s still something incredibly important that he has to do in order to preserve their relationship.  
Satan needs to lie.  
Yes, it’s crucial that Diavolo believes that he has almost no memory of what happened. So that way none of them ever have a reason to bring it up again. If the prince were to mention it to his face… he’d be forced to tell the truth.  
Their relationship would change then.

_______ _ _ _

So Satan plays it safe, and removes that risk altogether.

_______ _ _ _

> Satan: it’s a bit of a blur, but I’m sorry too. I think I made you uncomfortable. Or that I overstepped something.
> 
> _______ _ _ _
> 
> Diavolo: It’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for.

_______ _ _ _

Yes. This is exactly what they needed. A solid middle ground. An acknowledgment of what happened, and details that no one is ever going to look into. Now they can officially move past that entire incident, and everything can go back to normal.  
Satan sighs in relief. Their dynamic remains the same.  
Nothing’s been ruined.

_______ _ _ _

He receives another text from Diavolo.

_______ _ _ _

> Diavolo: It’s impossible for you to ever force yourself upon me. No matter what, I always have the ability to paralyze you or send you away. But I don’t, because it’s you.  
>  And I always want you to toad me.
> 
> _______ _ _ _
> 
> Satan: What?
> 
> _______ _ _ _
> 
> Diavolo: Autocorrect. I meant touch. This has nothing to do with toads.

_______ _ _ _

_As if he’d let something like that slide._

_______ _ _ _

> Satan: I see. I guess that sounds pretty ribbeting. I’ll have to take you up on that unfrogettable offer sometime :)
> 
> _______ _ _ _
> 
> Diavolo: I suppose I toadally deserve this.

_______ _ _ _

Satan laughs at his reply, and just like that, the rest of his worries have melted away. Things aren’t awkward between them, despite everything that’s happened.  
They’ll be fine. Even if he was licking Diavolo’s neck and moaning around his hand...  
Satan blushes once more. That’s a train of thought he needs to avoid altogether, and one that never plans on revisiting. Perhaps he’ll get into Lucifer’s secret stash of wine later on to help with that, although most of it is probably gone by now, given the nature of their last encounter.  
_Tch, no matter what, the bastard really does have to ruin everything._

_______ _ _ _

Still, the alcohol isn’t exactly needed. And despite how embarrassed he feels reflecting upon it, this isn’t a memory that Satan wants to forget. No, this is… precious? That can’t be the right word. He’s made an ass of himself. Any normal person would want to erase that from their memory altogether.

_______ _ _ _

But Satan has never been normal, and the feelings that are rummaging around inside of him are even less so. At one point, all of this would have bothered him. He would have spent weeks brooding over it all, and would’ve tried to avoid the prince for as long as he could. But now…  
He actually feels confident in their relationship. So instead, he allows himself to move on, and sends Diavolo a text of his own; something that he’s been wanting to tell him for quite awhile.

_______ _ _ _

> Satan: Thanks for looking out for me.
> 
> _______ _ _ _
> 
> Diavolo: Of course. You’re important to me, remember?
> 
> _______ _ _ _
> 
> Satan: I think I’m starting to.

_______ _ _ _

The desire to say something else hits him, and Satan knows exactly what it is. It's something incredibly silly. He woke up not too long ago, and hasn't looked at his alarm clock. There’s no telling what time it is, or how long he’s slept in. But at the same time, his morning feels dull and empty without those two little words. And even if the timing is off… it’s Diavolo. He won’t be judged at all. So Satan texts it to him with a grin on his face.

_______ _ _ _

> Satan: And one other thing.  
>  Good morning 🐸
> 
> _______ _ _ _
> 
> Diavolo: 🤣  
>  Good morning 🐸

_______ _ _ _

Another laugh. His grin grows even wider. It was stupid of him to ever have even worried about this in the first place. He’s embarrassed himself time and time again, yet they always end up on being fine. Today didn’t change that.  
No matter what, their bond cannot be broken.

_______ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank you guys for being so incredibly patient with me! I know I've been slow to update, so it means a lot to me that everyone is still excited about reading it!  
> And once again, all of your comments and kudos mean a lot to me as well, even if I don't respond to them. So please, always feel free to leave one!! I'll never get tired of them <3


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